The Hunger
by flight of the mockinjay
Summary: Cato's hungry for more. He wants more, more than what silly girls and weak fighting can give him. But Peeta... Peeta wets his appetite. Takes away the slightest bit of the hunger. Peeta excites him in a way he's never felt before, he's a challenge; he will have him. But what will happen when he's his?
1. Chapter 1

His eyes narrow harshly on the image of the boy on the television, confessing his love of that one silly girl. He remembers seeing her twirl in that ridiculous little dress, and his stomach tosses uncomfortably. She's repulsive, sickening, and awful. Every foul word he's ever thought, heard or muttered, he brings them all back to her. And maybe it's because she's in with a chance of winning. Maybe it's because he's jealous, since she seems to be doing pretty well, even before the competition begins.

But deep down, way deep down, Cato knows it's because Peeta loves her: because Peeta loves Katniss. Cato's known it since he saw them on the television at the reaping. The way the blonde guy stared at her, loathing the fact that she had taken her sister's place. Cato had known that Peeta was in love with Katniss ever since he knew that the boy would be his: _his _and never hers. Cato would do anything in his power to have the boy. The other blonde, the one with the strong body, the one that Cato had dreamed would be hard as he nestled into his arms, but soft at the same time, a rock surrounded by a pillow.

He thinks back to his fantasy from that night. He had been lying in his bed, desperately trying to get some sleep. Cato didn't care for killing anyone else, he would be proud when the moment came, when he'd finally have his chance at the spotlight. When members of the districts and Capitol alike would cheer his name: when the only slight blemish in his life would be the death of that one boy, of Peeta. So no, of course Cato didn't care if he killed every one of those trivial kids who'd murder him in his sleep if they thought it would help their chances of winning. In fact, he hungered for it: especially the death of the preposterous skank _Katniss. _And he thirsted to see the broken body of his blonde puppy dog, Glimmer, crumpled at his feet as he chuckles before ending her life. He wanted his face to be the last she ever saw.

He wanted her to hate him for it.

In fact, Cato fantasised about killing these two girls almost as much as he fantasised about Peeta. While his body is tied up in knots, refusing him from sleep, and he envisions the shorter boy wandering the halls in the middle of the night, not really sure of what he's searching for, what he desperately needs, until he finds himself out the front of Cato's door. The way Peeta's hands would tremble before knocking so daintily on the door, despite the fact that Cato knew of the power Peeta could have in those hands. Cato's eyes would open slowly, knowing that there was an intruder in his wake, but not caring. He knew the danger he was in around Peeta, and he enjoyed it. His unreality taunts him with the made up image of Peeta whimpering quietly as he wanders into the taller boy's room.

Cato's lips curl into a slow, feral smile, only just realising that he's still sitting in the amphitheatre, only just being awoken from his illusions when the crowd begins cheering for the boy he lusts for. Cato wets his lips, looking up at the television and not feeling a moment of guilt. Because there's nothing guilty about imagining what he will one day own, about what will be his. Because Peeta will be his.

Even if he has to expose himself in front of the whole world to get it.

-x-x-x-x-

Peeta rolls over in his bed, moaning softly to himself. His mind is filled with images he'd rather forget. He's in love with Katniss, he knows this. He's known this for years, ever since the first day of school. She's so different to every girl he's ever known, she's so strong, so beautiful. Almost exotic, despite the fact that she was born in the same crop as the rest of the girls. That's who he should be thinking about now, the same way he's thought of her every night of every year that he's known her. But he _can't. _He simply can't.

This place, the Capitol, it's done something to him. No, not this place, just this one boy. He groans again, images guiltily filling his head. Dark blue eyes, watching him from under dark, thick lashes. His creamy lips, lush and swollen from kissing him. His blonde locks, flopping unwillingly against his sweaty forehead. Every detail, every tiny thing about Cato, Peeta can't help but imagine. A rueful grunt escapes his mouth, only just realising that his hands had been stroking at his crotch for the past ten minutes. He tosses his head back, only just feeling how hard he is. It's repulsive. He hates himself for lusting over that monster, for wanting everything that he has to offer, knowing that the boy wants to kill him, even knowing that he wants to kill Katniss, and he just wants him all the more.

Peeta can't take it anymore. He needs his sleep, in just a few hours he'll be thrown into the arena when only God knows what will happen next, but he can't sleep while his body is all wound up like this. Peeta's breathing picks up as he realises just what he has to do if he wants any sort of chance at sleeping. He longs to wander the halls, to crawl into Cato's room and to force himself upon him, but he refuses to give in to urges that might get him killed. So instead he lulls his head back, his jaw slightly agape, and he gives in to the whims and desires of his mind.

His fingers reach up to his chest, crawling underneath his shirt and imagining Cato's abs. He groans, visualising the sharp lines of the hard muscles as they ripple each time he moves. Cato's body hovers over his in his mind, his hands pressed against the bed on each side of Peeta's head. He pretends that his own hands are Cato's as she stroke away from his chest and into his flexible tracksuit pants. Peeta's breath hitches in anticipation, his imagination so thorough that he can almost feel it as Cato's hot breath steams down on his neck, sticky with sweat.

Finally, his own hands, no, _Cato's _hands, curl around his erect cock, and Peeta has to bite down on his tongue to stop from shouting out, just at the slightest touch. He considers stopping now, knowing that he won't be able to keep quiet for much longer, if this is how he responds to a simple touch. But he's too far into it to end now, even if he wanted to, which a tiny part of him does, he's never be able to manage it.

So his curled fingers start sliding along his length. As slowly as he can manage, not wanting to let go of this. Not wanting to let go of the image of Cato. He imagines the boy's breath turning into kisses along his neck, and his fingers impulsively speed up. He can't have been going for any longer than fifteen minutes, but he feels himself just about ready to blow. He longs to continue, to keep the image of Cato's naked body hovered over his own sweaty, pulsing existence, but he knows that the moment is almost up.

So he takes it and runs. His fingers move faster than he ever thought imaginable, stroking himself at a speed that's creating such a friction it's almost painful. But he simply can't stop. He loses all abilities of breathing, his back and hips arching severely against his blankets as he climaxes. He forgets where he is, who he is, what his name is… He forgets everything except for Cato. He screams out as the orgasm comes in waves, rippling through his body at an almost uncomfortable rate. And all too soon, he's lying in his bed again, panting, his fingers and hips sticky with fulfilled lust.

Ever so gently, he pulls his fingers out of his pants, laying his hand beside him. He lies where he is for a good hour, panting hard and trying to desperately slow his heartbeat. While he lies there, he manages to think things through. He comes to three conclusions: the first being that he wants Cato, the second being that he was wrong and will definitely not be sleeping tonight, and the third and final conclusion being that he will not stop until Cato is his.

And with that, the boy smirks into the darkness at nothing at all, an innocent smile, merged in with the slyness of a naughty child, and he does it all again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Ten._

Cato crouches in place, preparing for the moment when the siren would sound. His entire body itches with the urge to sprint out to the Cornucopia. He wishes to feel his legs burn with a faint pain as he takes to the Cornucopia like a moth to a flame. He feels a faint twitch in his gut as he does so. To distract himself from the urge to _run _he analyses everything before him. His eyes graze each weapon slowly, a plan growing inside him. He'd grab the axe first; it's one of the first weapons he learned to use. It's pretty easy and quick, so long as you have the upper body strength for it. And if there was one thing Cato has, it's upper body strength.

_Nine._

Peeta's body twitches almost painfully. Is it just him or is the countdown going slower than it should be? He swallows audibly as he resents the need to sprint, to do _something. _In order to distract himself he glances around. He's filled with mixed emotions as he sees the faces of those around him. From the fearful expression on the 12-year-old district 11's face to the look of twisted longing on the dark-haired girl from district 2's face, they sure were a mixed group. Thinking of it every year there was a mixed group. It probably kept the Games fun.

_Eight._

Cato feels bile rising in the back of his throat when he feels her gaze on him; blue eyes piercing against his skin. _God doesn't she see that she's really _not _my type? _Cato represses a shudder. Of course she doesn't see that she's not his type. He's been sneaking off with Glimmer for hidden moments ever since they got to the Capitol. It puts on a good show for him to have a pet like her. It makes him seem desirable. It's also one more person who won't want to kill him. He already knows that the girl from his district, Clove, is head over heels in love with him; he made sure of it years ago, when they were just little kids. He should probably feel bad for messing with all of these girls' emotions. But at the end of the day, they didn't mean anything to him. They never would. He finally feels the blonde turn away, averting her attention to the Cornucopia. Hopefully she's thinking of the weapons they could use to put the _Girl on Fire_'s flame out. A slow smile crawls onto Cato's lips.

_Seven._

Peeta could kick himself when he realises he's staring at _him. _On the inside he still loves Katniss; when you've cared for somebody that much for that long it's not easy to just _stop. _But his body's confused. His body keeps telling him he wants _him, _Cato. What happened the night before, he swore it was a fluke. In the moment he had promised to make Cato _his, _but now he rejects that thought. He's on TV right now, for everyone to see. How could he be stupid enough to think that he'd try seducing some _guy? _No, the entrails of the night before would never be heard by anybody. Nobody would ever know the way his body began to sweat when he merely _thought _of Cato, how his length would harden painfully with desire…

_Six._

Cato rolls his shoulders back proudly, an arrogant smirk finding its way involuntarily to his lips. He knows that the boy is staring at him. No, not the boy; _his boy. _Cato grins wickedly, a tug pulling in his chest. This will be easier than he had thought, making Peeta his. Cato trained his peripheral vision for years just for the Games. Even though he's looking nowhere _near _the boy, he can see the longing easily in his eyes. It sends a shiver of delight across Cato's skin, rippling his muscles and warming his chest. He wets his lips faintly, puffing his chest. He doesn't know how long Peeta will stare at him for, but he's going to make it count. He's not concerned about the rapidly coming beginning of the Games. Cato's instincts are sharp as knives. Even if he only heard the last two seconds of the countdown he'd still be running, _flying _towards the Cornucopia quicker than most of the contestants would even realise it's safe to run.

_Five._

_No. _His eyes narrow and he looks around, anywhere, _everywhere _but at _him; a_t the boy who was ruining everything, confusing _everything. _Peeta grits his teeth together, adjusting his body to lean towards the Cornucopia. It's not enough. Seeing all those weapons while Cato was still so fresh in his mind, it was evoking painfully erotic thoughts. Quickly, Peeta turns his gaze on Katniss. A strange flutter pulls in his chest and he sees that she's looking towards the Cornucopia longingly. He follows her gaze, his eyes falling on a perfectly sculpted silver bow. Everything explodes before his eyes and he knows immediately that she's going to run for it. Sure, if she got her hands on that bow she'd be unstoppable. Nobody would be able to fight Katniss and her bow, no matter how well trained they are. But if she _didn't _make it to the bow, if somebody simply sliced a knife into her back while she was on her way… It wouldn't be worth the chance.

_Four._

Cato's eyes lock on the centre of the Cornucopia when he sees _it. _The sword is silver, the sun glinting off it at just the right angle for the glare to shine directly in his eyes. It's kind of stupid really, how he _feels _the weapon call to him. He knows immediately that it will be his, the same way that he took one look at Peeta and knew he'd be his. He imagines taking the handle of the sword into his strong, calloused hands and wielding the razor-sharp blade expertly. He imagines hunting down _Katniss, _finding her once she's realised just how in over her head she is. He imagines seeing her lying in mud, cold, wet, starving and about to die, even without his help. He imagines taking the perfect blade to her skin, peppering her with cuts of different depths, hearing her screams set the entire forest on fire while he chuckles low. He'd use her as bait for Peeta. He'd hear his love's screams and come running, right into Cato's palm…

_Three._

Peeta twists towards Katniss, his eyes murderous as he glares at her. She apparently feels the weight of his glare because she turns to face him but a millisecond after he whips around. He shakes his head subtly, letting the girl know that it's a bad idea. He silently tells her that he'll kill her himself if she defies Haymitch by going for that bow. Personally, Peeta trusts their mentor completely. There had to have been a time when Haymitch wasn't such a slob, a time when he was smart enough to make it out of the Games alive. He trusts that whatever Haymitch told them while he mentored them could very well save their lives out here. Peeta grits his teeth together, almost hard enough to break them. He will _not _let the Girl on Fire down. She's going to win, he decides silently. Peeta promises to do everything in his power to make sure Katniss makes it out of this thing alive. He'll kill every one of these kids, hell; he'll kill _himself _to make sure she makes it out. A plan begins growing in Peeta's mind. It would start with the Careers…

_Two._

Cato's upper lip rises in a low snarl, not caring who hears him and guesses his thoughts. Peeta would scream for his loves life. Cato wouldn't mind too bad, he doesn't really want Peeta's love. Cato's never been in love and he's convinced he never will be. Love is weakness and he can do without it. No, so long as Peeta's lust belongs to him that's all that really matters. So long as Peeta would beg for Katniss' life, telling Cato he'd do anything, _anything _to save the silly girl. It'd be his excuse, to save Katniss. But Cato would hear past the excuse. He'd hear the longing in the other blonde's words. He'd know that Peeta would just be fulfilling his own immodest thoughts when his voice would take on a seductive tone. His eyes would glaze with lust; his lips would become wet with thirst for the taller blonde. He'd continue begging for Katniss' life, but Cato would know; they both would know. They'd know the reason Peeta really came to the sounds of Katniss' screams that he was hoping it was Cato torturing her. He'd take the bait gladly, the explanation enough to justify his covetousness. And then they'd fall in to each other, their bodies becoming scarce of clothes almost instantly as the mud enveloped them. The whole world would be watching but neither would care. Neither would know of anything but the other's body grinding into their own…

_One._

Peeta's body tenses as he leans towards the Cornucopia. His gut twists awkwardly, hit feet digging into the mine beneath him as he awaits the sound of the final siren. His plan is ready in the forefront of his mind, and although it's sketchy and far from full proof, it's all he's got. _You know you're not doing it for _her, his thoughts hiss at the back of his mind, mocking him. _You made this plan to be closer to _him. _The one that's changed everything. _Peeta rejects the whispering, swallowing it deep down where he can ignore it. His muscles flex once more as his eyes narrow on the axe he's going to make a run for. Katniss herself said he was strong, she saw his potential. And an axe is the perfect weapon for someone with strength to spare. Not only is it deadly if you can use it, but most people who steal it from you won't be able to. Peeta purses his lips in a firm line as he waits for the world to explode.

_Bang._

Everything shatters in a nanosecond and Cato is sprinting into the bloodbath without even stopping to consider his actions. He's been trained almost his entire life for this moment, the moment the Games _really _begin, and it shows. He's halfway to his sword when the rest of the world catches up, snapping towards him like a rubber band that just got snapped against his skin. Despite the stimulating thoughts he had no even two seconds before, his focus is completely on the one weapon that he wants more than anything else. Sound detonates his eardrums as the war cries begin, but all he sees is the sword. A comforting burn flashes up his thighs as he increases his pace. He refuses to let anybody else beat him to the Cornucopia. Nobody will have an advantage on him, he refuses it.

He makes it to the Cornucopia before the Girl on Fire is finished deciding where to run. A manic grin crawls onto his lips as his hand crawls around the hilt of the sword. A large part of him longs to chase her out into the forest, but he rejects the idea. He'll keep her for last. He'll hear her screams reverberate throughout the empty forest, making sure she knows she's the last one. Just him and her, that's what he decides instantly it will come down to. It'll be a shame that the blonde from her district will already be dead by that point, but a sacrifice Cato is willing to make.

Cato twists his body behind him, his own war cry ripping from his chest as he swipes the recently-sharpened blade of his sword through the thin neck of a kid. A quick glance at the kid tells Cato that he was the tribute for district 5. His feral grin grows and his growl heightens in his chest as he searches for his next victim. The blood bath becomes a blur to him. It would be etched into his memory forever as a flash of red and silver, mingled with the taste of copper and the sounds of screams and war cries. All he knows is that eleven people died, at least half of them at the none-existent mercy of his sword.

At the end of the day his chest rises and falls with power, his muscles twitching and shaking with adrenaline. The day he trained his entire life for is over, and it's time for the real Games to begin. The Cornucopia blood bath, that's a Game in its own. Cato's always seen it as the foreplay to the true Games, just giving the contenders a taste of what's in store for them. His stomach quivers with a thirst for blood, with the longing to sprint into the forest and hunt down ever one of the sorry sons-of-bitches that escaped the wrath of his sword.

Instead he falls to the ground. Blood is mingled into his clothes, so much that he can _smell _the copper wafting up his nose. The other Careers follow his lead, sitting around him. He glances up to see feral delight in each of their gruesomely distorted faces; the girl from district 4, the boy from 3, Clove, Marvel and the sickening dog _Glimmer. _He'd kill her in her sleep later, letting her wake just in time to make sure she knew it was him who slitted her throat.

He grins just thinking of it.

Cato frowns slightly when he hears an odd sound; a pacing towards them. His fingers curl tightly around his sword's hilt as he stands, turning in the meadow to find where the noise is coming from. Clove and Glimmer instantly stand, their backs facing his as they make a circle. Either they hear the steps as well or they simply trust his instincts. Cato wouldn't be surprised if it was the latter.

His muscles twitch impatiently when he hears the sound slowing, but getting louder. Whoever it is a lot closer now, just on the skirts of the meadow. Cato's facing the Cornucopia when he sees _him. _Something at Cato's core freezes with fear when he realises Glimmer has seen his reaction and is following his gaze. She sees _him_ and instantly loads up the bow she collected from the Cornucopia. She's only trained with it a little before, but Cato doesn't believe for a second that she won't be able to kill _him _with it.

"Glimmer," Cato warns, his voice sharper than a knife. The blonde girl hesitates slightly until she lets the bow drop to her side. Her eyes narrow on the intruder like daggers and she tries to understand her leader's reasoning. Why can't she just kill _him _already? It's not like they'll let him live after this intrusion anyway.

Cato presses his lips tightly together, trying desperately to keep his expression under control. Does he really care if _he _dies? Not much. He just doesn't want to lose _him _before he's had _him._

"Why are you here?" Cato calls out, his voice easily making its way across the meadow. _He _rolls his shoulders, unfurling away from the Cornucopia. He takes a step towards the Careers, attempting to mingle an air of confidence into his perception. This comes off as arrogance though, making Glimmer lift her bow to her shoulder again, her eyes shooting daggers towards _him. _The boy clears her throat, his eyes twitching from Glimmer with her bow to Cato, who's obviously the appointed leader of the Careers. He straightens his back, endeavouring to make his expression as fierce as possible. He will _not _be denied. He just hopes they see that.

"I'm here to join you." Peeta calls, his voice silencing the Careers instantly.

And then all Hell broke loose.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_Previously on The Hunger:_

_"Why are you here?" Cato calls out, his voice easily making its way across the meadow. __He __rolls his shoulders, unfurling away from the Cornucopia. He takes a step towards the Careers, attempting to mingle an air of confidence into his perception. This comes off as arrogance though, making Glimmer lift her bow to her shoulder again, her eyes shooting daggers towards __him. __The boy clears her throat, his eyes twitching from Glimmer with her bow to Cato, who's obviously the appointed leader of the Careers. He straightens his back, endeavouring to make his expression as fierce as possible. He will __not __be denied. He just hopes they see that._

_"I'm here to join you." Peeta calls, his voice silencing the Careers instantly._

_And then all Hell broke loose._

-x-x-x-x-

Peeta's knew it was a stupid idea to come to the Careers. He knew it was simply _moronic _to attempt a real conversation with them. If he had thought about it properly, maybe he would have realised they were going to kill him the second they saw him enter the clearing. But of course, the stupid kid that he was, was thinking with his heart; he was thinking for Katniss.

Because the only way to protect her was to be with her biggest threat. Katniss was strong, stronger than anyone he's ever met; stronger than anyone in the Games, with the exception of the Careers. This was _exactly _why he had to get in with them. He had to follow them around, make sure that they keep away from his love; he _had _to keep Katniss, at all costs.

And he was _not _doing this for Cato; he refused to acknowledge the tiny voice in the back of his mind, the voice that steadily grew the longer he was around the taller blonde. He refused to listen to its argument, when it whispered just how Cato's muscles would ripple beneath his own body as they move in sync, pleasure cursing through each of their bodies. Peeta bites down on his tongue, repressing a shudder as he remembers where he is. No, he's here for Katniss and _only _Katniss. Katniss is the only person he wants, she's the only person he's _ever _wanted.

Then why, when he simply glances at Cato, do shivers of longing dance along his spine and light his skin into a radiant blush?

The boy pushes his enquires into the back of his mind as he steps forward from the Cornucopia. He's been standing there for the past ten seconds but he's not a moron; he's sure that the Careers have heard him. His stomach twists awkwardly when he sees the blonde he lusts after standing before him. Before he can say or do anything he might regret though, the other one, the girl from 1, lifts a silver bow and is about to point it towards the baker's son before another voice calls across the clearing.

"Glimmer." Cato murmurs. It's a quiet sound, but it's enough to send shivers rippling down Peeta's spine. He hears the authority behind the words and the girl, Glimmer, obviously does too. Her expression twists with hatred as her eyes narrow on Peeta, but she leaves the bow to hand at her waist. Peeta sucks in a deep, slow breath, hoping it to be as subtle as possible. He doesn't want the Careers to see his nerves; he doesn't want them to know how much he _doesn't _want to be here right now.

"Why are you here?" Cato calls, wary intrigue growing in his expressions. Peeta rolls his shoulders back, hoping to appear as confident as possible. Apparently his confidence comes off as arrogance though because Glimmer lifts her bow to her shoulder, tugging on the string. The silver glints in the sun, flashing directly in Peeta's line of sight. The blonde clears his throat gruffly, fear twisting into his blood stream. He glances up, his eyes falling between Cato and Glimmer. It's obvious that his blonde (his? Where did _that _come from?) is the leader of the group, but Glimmer seems to be Peeta's biggest threat currently. The artist settles his eyes on the taller of the blondes, his expression finally succeeding in his attempts to appear confident.

"I'm here to join you." He calls. The Careers go silent and for a tense moment, nothing happens.

And then all Hell breaks loose.

Glimmer is the first to react. A sharp scream builds in her throat as she pulls back on her bow. Expert fingers twirl against the silver and Peeta crouches in a lucky and completely instinctive duck just as the already-prepared bow whistles over his head. His stomach drops and his eyes widen, the realisation of just how idiotic this plan was finally settling in.

Peeta's ears are filled with screams, each of them saying similar things.

"_He's here for _her!"

"_You think we'd actually _believe _you?"_

"_Now why would we ever want _you _with us?"_

Peeta twists his body in awkward positions, his body turning him into a human pretzel as bows, knives and spears whistle against him. Once or twice a knife even nicks his skin, slicing his arms shallowly. Blood drips into the grass beneath him, joining the bodies of the other dead tributes from the blood bath. The Careers obviously haven't left the clearing yet, meaning there's been no chance for hovercrafts to come in and dispose of the bodies.

In all of the madness, the only person to remain somewhat calm is Cato. The blonde's eyes have glazed over slightly, but if you looked closely enough you could see the fear that nestled into the very back of his mind. His ears block out the battle going on around him, tuning him into white noise. Everything in his line of vision is blurred, all but Peeta and the flashes of scarlet that pepper his skin. It isn't until Clove throws a dagger alarmingly close to Peeta, slicing into his cheek and starting a waterfall of blood is it that Cato reacts.

"Enough!" the blonde screams, his voice echoing throughout the clearing. Glimmer and Clove hiss in unison and keep a strong grip on their weapons, but they cease fire anyway. Peeta, with his hand bloody and hugging his wounded cheek, flashes his sky-blue eyes towards the head Career, shock clearly visible in his expression.

Cato's face crumples into a scowl and his eyes narrow on his fellow Careers. Despite what everyone thinks he does _not _like the spotlight. He doesn't like having all eyes on him just so he can speak. He's perfectly fine with fighting in front of people as an example, but he strongly dislikes speaking. Cato glances around, his crystal eyes twirling from Glimmer to Clove. His nose wrinkles impulsively as he takes in the two girls but he curls two fingers towards himself, gesturing that they come closer. The two frown but they follow as he unofficially has asked.

Everything stays silent and perfectly still apart from Cato's two biggest admirers gliding across the clearing. The girl from district 4, the boy from district 3 and Marvel keep their eyes narrowed on Peeta. Marvel's grip on his spear is shocking and slightly terrifying. It's enough to make Peeta's eyes move from staring at Cato to the spear, fear cursing through him. Would Cato say anything if Marvel were about to kill him? Would Marvel be punished for defying their leader? Is there anything to stop Marvel from throwing the spear right through his broad chest? Peeta supresses a shiver, longing to look away from the spear but he simply can't. It's like seeing a bad car accident; it repulses you but at the same time you just _can't _look away.

Clove and Glimmer reach Cato on the edge of the clearing. Clove has her arms crossed over her chest, her expression crumpled like that of a child who hasn't gotten the toy that they had wanted. Glimmer's eyes follow Cato's body, attempting to read his body language and understand why he didn't let them kill the baker's son. He hadn't objected when they killed the eleven other tributes earlier that day, the ones that still lay dead at their feet, their blood dripping from their bodies and seeping into the mud. Cato's eyes are on Peeta, assuring himself that his other Careers wouldn't dare so much as _touch _Peeta while he's distracted. Once he's positive that the blonde is safe from harm his gaze turns on the two girls who pine for his affection.

"Are you two complete and utter _idiots?" _He spits, venom dripping from his tongue and his eyes narrowing on them. Glimmer shifts her weight uncomfortably under the glare of her lover, but Clove simply straightens her back further, tossing her nose in the air with pride. A low growl grows in Cato's chest that causes Glimmer to take an involuntary step back. "He'll know where _she _is. He actually _wants _to work with us." He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Blonde locks flop into his eyes but he quickly tosses them back, annoyance growing in him. Cato makes sure his hair is always immaculately styled, even now while he's in the Games.

"But Cato," Clove begins, arching a sharp eyebrow as her dark eyes connect with the icy stare of Cato's blue ones. "How are we supposed to believe that? I'm not saying you're wrong so don't look at me like that. I'm just asking _how _we know that the kid isn't just playing with us. For all we know, he's here on _her _orders, specifically to spy on us." Cato presses his lips together, frustration growing when she doesn't see the obvious answer.

"He's here alone, Clove." Cato remarks, drawing a long eye roll from the heavily muscled blonde. "If he was here with ulterior motives he wouldn't have been stupid enough to come alone. He _knows _that we can kill him, that his life is at risk every moment that he's here. I don't care how much the kid apparently loves that skitch, there's no way he'd be out here risking getting killed gruesomely for her. Plus she's not the type of person to ask anyone to risk their life for her. She's too proud for that." Cato's eyes narrow at their idiocy and he shakes his head.

"What if she's hiding then, genius? Then what?" Clove's eyes narrow sharply on him, huffing quietly. She _hates _being proven wrong more than she hates anything else in the world; even worse than she hates the Girl on Fire.

"Use some initiative. Again, she wouldn't let anyone risk their life for her and of course I don't think lover boy would be all that delighted about letting his girlfriend get too close to her biggest threat in the Game." The boy's expression turns into a dark scowl then his lips twist into an amused smirk. "But Clove, didn't you say she didn't get away with any weapons? Are you scared of, what, her bare nails? Her teeth? Her _overwhelming _strength?" He chuckles quietly, obviously trying to spite the girl. It works, her eyes flashing darkly before she hisses at him. She opens her mouth to retort but Glimmer instantly steps in, sick of their bickering.

"Fine. But why would we want lover boy with us anyway, Cato? Sure he's gone some muscle, but it'd be more worth it to just kill him now and make sure he doesn't get his hands on an axe or something else easy to manoeuvre so long as you have the strength."

"He can lead us to her. Imagine how it would look if lover boy tore the Girl on Fire apart himself, his fingertips dripping with her blood?" The blonde's eyes flash dangerously, a sick arousal growing in the pit of his stomach at the image. _Peeta's eyes would glass over momentarily before giving himself in to the darkness. He would take Katniss in his arms, asking for comfort. He would proclaim that the Careers had hurt him, that they were after her. He'd beg for one final embrace before they both see the hooded eyes of death. The girl would comply, fear shaking her to her bones as she wraps her arms around his. Peeta would press his lips to her ear gently, whispering that he loves her just for the camera, before plunging a sword into her back. The silly girl would gasp with shock and pain, her eyes flashing open as she pushes the one that she thought loved her away. Peeta would chuckle slowly, his fingers gripped tightly around the sword he jammed into his love's back. Blood would coat the skin at his hands as he pushes her to the ground, her blood seeping into the ground beneath her. Fear and confusion would gloss her features as the boy reaches down, his bloody fingers wrapping around her neck with the intention of crushing her windpipe, ending the life of the Girl on Fire forever._

Cato shudders faintly, his grin growing. He understands that it's wrong, that he shouldn't long for it, but oh he does. The image burned into his mind, Peeta gloriously dark with his former love's blood dripping from his fingers and pattering against his strong thighs, it sends shivers up along Cato's spine. The idea of Peeta fulfilling such a wicked fate makes his member twitch, longing to take the other blonde as his own.

"I guess." Glimmer murmurs softly, waking Cato from his perverted daydream. "So we accept him? We treat him as our own? And then we force him to end _her _life? How…entertaining." The blonde's lips twist into a sick smirk, her eyes flashing with a growing excitement. Cato grins and Clove simply can't help it. Her lips twitch impulsively into a dark grin.

Cato represses the sigh that grows in his chest as her turns to face Peeta. Relief rushes through his body that he simply can't stand. Sure, he wants the boy, but he's never felt this protective, not over anyone. He's never lusted over someone so much. With everyone else Cato has been even remotely attracted to he's never cared for the person themselves. With Peeta… Cato would feel at a loss if he ever lost him. He wouldn't know what to do next, knowing that he never got the chance to be close to the blonde. Knowing that he never got the chance to feel their bodies pressed against each other, their heart thrumming in passionate synchronisation, he'd fall into a black abyss, nowhere to go next.

The other blonde shifts awkwardly under the glare of his crystal eyes. Cato's lips twist into an impulsive smirk as he steps forward, arrogance radiating from his aura causing everyone in the clearing to shiver. Peeta, though he feels fear rippling through him, is the calmest member in the clearing. He stands upright, his eyes boring into the steely blue orbs directly across from the clearing. Everything in the clearing is silent and everyone stares towards Cato, the muscular blonde internally squirming under the weight of everyone's gaze.

"Welcome to the jungle." Cato calls, his voice reverberating throughout the clearing. A shadow falls upon his sculptured face as his eyes bore against Peeta's body.

-x-x-x-x-

**AU: Thanks so much to everyone who's been reviewing! This is my first time writing Hunger Games fanfic and I'm glad to feel a real connection to the story. I've decided that I'm going to update once weakly with this and another one of my fanfics. (If you're a Morganville Vampires fan please check out Second Life, Second Death) Updating should be a lot more structured now and I'm going to get a chapter up every weekend. If all goes to plan a new chapter of The Hunger should come out every Saturday, usually at night but sometimes earlier if I've pre-written it. Please keep reading, I'm sure you'll love it :D**

**So even though this chapter is kind of average in length it doesn't really tae all that long in real time, for which I apologise. But next time we'll skip straight to where the Careers kill the girl who lights the fire near Katniss. Not really sure what else happens after that. If anyone has any ideas would you please either post them in a review or PM me? I'd appreciate it c:**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Previously on The Hunger:_

_The other blonde shifts awkwardly under the glare of his crystal eyes. Cato's lips twist into an impulsive smirk as he steps forward, arrogance radiating from his aura causing everyone in the clearing to shiver. Peeta, though he feels fear rippling through him, is the calmest member in the clearing. He stands upright, his eyes boring into the steely blue orbs directly across from the clearing. Everything in the clearing is silent and everyone stares towards Cato, the muscular blonde internally squirming under the weight of everyone's gaze._

_"Welcome to the jungle." Cato calls, his voice reverberating throughout the clearing. A shadow falls upon his sculptured face as his eyes bore against Peeta's body._

-x-x-x-x-

"Idiot." Clove snickers, her voice nearly-silent as they watch the girl with the fire. Peeta feels a strange twist in his stomach, almost reminding him of the feeling of nausea. That girl, freezing and desperate enough to light a fire, that could have been him. Hell, it could have been _Katniss. _It could have been _Prim. _So here he stands, amongst the ranks of the Careers, spying on a tribute in her final moments.

Because Peeta is a Career now.

His stomach flips awkwardly as the realisation hits him. Sure, he had understood what he was asking when he asked to join them. He understood that being a Career meant, he had known that he'd be killing. That he'd have to think of how to kill, to strategize in order to end a life. The blonde represses the shudder that crawls along his spine, his eyes falling upon the girl in the clearing. Honestly, he doesn't really blame her. He's been moving all night, so he's warm with the blood dancing through his veins, but he can feel the cold layering itself upon his bare skin. He understands why someone might light a fire, risking their life, in order to keep as warm as possible.

But just because it's understandable doesn't mean he can think any different. This girl's going to die tonight, within the next hour, and he's going to have to laugh about it afterwards. He'll cheer in celebration as her soul leaves the world, her body carried away by hovercrafts. Then he'll go to sleep, lay his head down and pretend to trust the other Careers around him, then wake up and do it all again.

Revulsion rises in the back of his throat, a bitter taste that makes him feel like sprinting away from here as fast as his strong legs will carry him. Instead of following his instincts he holds onto the steel set inside him, pushing him to do better; his driveto stick to what he set out to do. Katniss _must _win; Katniss _will _win. To Peeta, anything else would be unthinkable. He would do anything to makes sure his love wins, even when that means taking his own life. He is most definitely _not _here just to be near _him. _Peeta most definitely does _not _want Cato, in any way.

As if sensing thoughts about himself, Cato glances over his shoulder down the shorter blonde. In a flash Peeta sees… He's not sure. But he sees _something _in Cato's eyes, something that he's pretty sure no one before him has seen. A moment where Peeta sees who Cato is, where he sees the vulnerability hidden in the depths of District 2's God. But it only lasts for a moment, and in a flash the same cocky champion that all of Panem adores.

"It's show time." Cato hisses, a smirk growing on his dangerous lips. Peeta swallows the thick lump rising in the back of his throat, the same feeling he had that one time he got so sick with the flu that Katniss' mum had to give him pills to help him get better. Cato rises from his crouch, the rest of the Careers save Peeta following in his steps. The seven members of the Career pack have been nestled in the bushes surrounding the girl with the fire for maybe two minutes, simply making sure that she doesn't have anyone else ready to jump out and attack them. Do any of the Careers think that anyone but themselves could ever harm them? Of course not, they're all too cocky for that. But they don't want to risk getting injured, no matter the severity, this early in the Games.

Peeta can't help it when his eyes are drawn to Cato's body as he moves. He can't help but appreciate the way the boy moves, his heavily muscled body twisting like a cat's, silent as he dances form the bushes. The other five Careers dance on his flanks, right behind him, but none with the same grace that Cato seems to command. Peeta bites down hard on his tongue, hard enough to draw blood as he forces his stiff body into a standing position. He is _not _here for Cato.

He just _isn't._

A slow chuckle fills the small clearing, the girl who started the fire glancing up instantly, fear buried deep in her eyes. The rumble continues to crawl from Cato's chest, the leader of the Careers finding amusement in her fear.

"Starting to regret that fire now, babe?" Cato whispers before grinning. His face is lit up with a feral menace, the light from the fire illuminating his features with stark shadows and giving his highlights the appearance of flames. His hair is lit up the colour of blood, and Peeta can't help but marvel in the beauty of it all. The shorter blonde knows that Cato is dangerous; he knows that he's sick and twisted, finding amusement in the most grotesque of things, but the boy _is _undeniably beautiful.

A scream pierces through Peeta's ears and his eyes are dragged from the beauty of his leader towards the girl positioned in the centre of the clearing. She nearly falls into the fire as she scrambles to stand and run, but it's of no use. A wicked giggle rips from Clove's chest, a metallic sound that sends repulsion shivering along Peeta's skin. He turns in time to see Clove's fingers flinging one of her deadly knives flying towards the illuminated girl. Peeta's sure that it's on purpose when the knife stabs the girl in the leg, tumbling her to the floor in a fit of screams; Clove doesn't miss. There is a chorus of chuckles from the Careers and Peeta has to fight to keep the look of horror from his face.

Beyond the girl's screams and the cackle from the Careers enjoyment Peeta notices a lack of noise; Cato isn't laughing. Concern tackles into him before he can push it away and his eyes fall upon the shape he's studied so well recently. Shock dances through his body when he notices the other blonde watching him, his eyebrows arched and his lips twisted. Confusion floods through Peeta, nearly hard enough to drown out the sounds of the soon-to-be-dead girl's screams.

"Ready to prove yourself?" Cato murmurs, quiet enough that nobody should have been able to hear him over the screams. But the moment Cato's mouth opened the cackling and the screams died down, all eyes falling upon Cato. The district 2 boy turns his entire body to stare at Peeta, his eyebrows arching further as he passes his sword towards the boy. Six pairs of eyes shift onto Peeta's body, curious to see what his next move will be.

Peeta looks to the sword, resisting a grimace at the sight of the dried blood. He can imagine how the blood had pooled towards the blade as Cato sunk it deep into his victims, how they wouldn't even feel its cold metal as the nerves in their bodies would fall apart, giving in the fight. Peeta's lips press together in a tight, pale line. He's turned away from the fire, shadows hiding his face. Still, he feels naked in the gaze of his watches. It's not so much the Careers that are unnerving him, but _him._ It's the way he looks at him, as if he can see everything on the inside. Peeta has never been more shadowed, but no one has ever seen him as well as Cato does in that moment. He raises his eyes from the blade, falling to look at its owner. Cato's expression has relaxed slightly from the seductive appearance he held before. Peeta can see the hope nestled into his eyes, the longing that Peeta will do this. He _wants _this excuse to keep Peeta around; he doesn't _want _to kill the shorter blonde.

It's for this reason and this reason alone that Peeta reaches out to take the sword in his shaking hands. Fear creeps into his chest, freezing his entire body, but he takes the sword with a grip like a viper. His eyes refuse to fall form Cato's until it's time to turn towards the girl who's about to die.

Her eyes widen as she takes in Peeta's face. With his expression illuminated by the fire he truly is a sight to see. There wouldn't be a soul on earth who has seen that look in Peeta's eyes, the wicked glint that hardens everything about him. But underneath she can see that he's not doing this to cause her pain; he isn't doing this for pleasure. Peeta's going to kill her for love, he's going to kill her to prove himself. His knuckles whiten as he tightens his grip on the hilt, raising the sword above his head before thrusting its blade into her chest.

It's over in a minute.

Peeta watches the light leave her eyes along with the life. He feels the small piece break away from his soul at the feeling of cold-blooded murder. This is senseless, of that he's sure, yet still the blade stays lodged between her ribs. Blood pools beneath her immobile body, tumbling in a wave over Peeta's shoes. He feels as cold as she has begun to look, her skin turning deathly pale from the lack of blood. Her eyes stay wide open, vibrant red in the glow of the flame, and Peeta knows that no matter how long he lives every time he shuts his eyes the look in hers will be burned into his eyelids.

Peeta just had his first kill; he's now a murderer. Confusion wells inside him. Half of him is freaking out, working at over drive. He thinks of what the people back home in district 12 will be thinking, he wonders what they'd say to him if he ever had a chance of coming home. His mind asks if they'd be proud of him, or if they'd be disgusted. Because Peeta just became a part of the Games, it all just became real for him. Suddenly it's not just a Game anymore; he can't keep pretending that it's all about playing dress ups and amusing viewers with silly interviews. He can't keep telling himself that nobody's going to get hurt; that no blood will be spilled. Lives are on the line here and his could very well be the next to end.

All is silent in the clearing as the girl's blood pools into the dirt, dark enough to be ink. Not a soul dares to move. Suddenly the boom of the cannon explodes through Peeta's head, shaking the world back to normal. He hadn't even realised that everything froze before his eyes. A tableau fills his vision, the images of his eternal damnation. To all the other Careers this may have just been a step closer to winning, but to Peeta it was his becoming a monster.

As the roar of the cannon reverberates through the field the other Careers come to life. Clove screams with what sounds like pure joy, her stunning features lighting up with joy like a child on Christmas morning. Clove's face twists into an ugly scowl, but she can't hide the grim satisfaction buried behind her dark eyes. After seeing this murder she can't deny that Peeta has no ulterior motives with the Careers; she's finally forced into accepting that he belongs with them.

But the face that Peeta really sees is that of their leaders. Cato's eyes shine with pride that causes Peeta's chest to swell. Warmth tumbles across his skin finally banish the dreadful cold that cold-blooded murder tipped over him. Everything feels tingly as he moves and he can feel Cato's gaze digging through his skin. Peeta can't help the slow smile that dances against his lips, and he most definitely can't help the jolt his chest gives when Cato returns the grin. It's when he smiles that Peeta can really appreciate just what a masterpiece the taller blonde's face is. Where he can value the smallest things: the way his eyes shine like sapphires buried in the bank of a crystal river, the way his cheeks are sculptured as if by an angel, the bow of his lips in that perfect dint on his lower lip. The things that make Cato who he is, although hardly anyone ever really _sees_ it.

_God is he beautiful. _A warm shiver glazes over Peeta's skin as the cheering really begins. The five other Careers rave back towards the Cornucopia, swinging their weapons nearly recklessly in the air with celebration as they do. Peeta and Cato are the last two to leave the clearing. The fire crackles softly as they stand across from each other, filling in the silence that isn't necessarily awkward.

"Good work." Cato murmurs, his voice enough to fill the small space between them. The smile that had been dying on Peeta's lips grows once more, his eyes lighting up from the praise.

"Thanks." Peeta begins, leaving his lips parted as he tries to think of something more to say. When Peeta can't think of anything, Cato coughs dryly before turning on his heel to follow in the footsteps of the other Careers.

Peeta is left alone to tackle his complex emotions as he watches Cato swagger away. Without the light of his grin to warm him, the chills of murder drip back into his system leaving the blonde shaking with cold. Becoming a monster isn't something most people get over easily. His eyes fall upon the body of the dead girl behind him, and a sharp pang stabs through his chest. _That could have been Katniss. _He presses his lips back together, the stabbing feeling refusing to relent as he turns back to the darkness where the Careers disappeared into. Despite the cold that threatens to break him, he can't deny the feeling of warmth swirling in his chest. It's not a bad feeling, but the reasoning behind it is of some concern.

There are two reasons why he might be feeling such a way. The first being his feelings for Cato, because he's sure that there's a connection there. Peeta's through with trying to push it away; he's sick of hiding form himself. The one thin g that he's sure of is his steadily growing emotions for Cato, although the blonde would deny it if ever this belief were spoken aloud. The second reason he might feel the warmth crawling through the mask of ice, is that some part of him, way deep down, enjoyed murdering that girl.

Now _that's _a scary thought.

-x-x-x-x-

**AN: I'd just like to thank SakuraDrops141 for giving me a great idea about where to take the story. I was initially going to steal her entire idea (mwahahaha) but after writing my way about halfway through this chapter I had my own, and decided that might be better if I can connect to something **_**I've **_**created. Still, thanks for ending this creative writer's block. I'd also like to thank everyone so much for reviewing. These reviews are the reason I love writing so much, I just love connecting with you guys.**

**I'm also extremely sorry that this is a few days late. To make up for it though I've written out a plan of what I want the next 3-4 chapters to be like, so they should be easy to write and I should update quickly.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_Previously on The Hunger:_

_There are two reasons why he might be feeling such a way. The first being his feelings for Cato, because he's sure that there's a connection there. Peeta's through with trying to push it away; he's sick of hiding form himself. The one thin g that he's sure of is his steadily growing emotions for Cato, although the blonde would deny it if ever this belief were spoken aloud. The second reason he might feel the warmth crawling through the mask of ice, is that some part of him, way deep down, enjoyed murdering that girl._

_Now that's a scary thought._

-x-x-x-x-

"Lights out, guys." Cato chuckles, a slow smirk dancing across his lips. Everyone's feeling pretty good tonight, exuberant. But still, the Games are far from over, and he needs his team in top shape. Nobody gets much killing done with sleep deprivation biting into their minds.

Some people don't see the genius in forming an alliance. Some people think you're just setting yourself up for pain by losing those you've grown to care for. Cato sees no problem in it, so long as you learn how to control your emotions. Cato's never cared for anybody more than he's cared for the Games. He's never loved anybody enough to sacrifice his glory. There's never been anyone to steal his heart enough to make him give in to the call of, well, defeat. Because despite popular belief, Cato often _does _want to give in. Sometimes he just wants to be a normal kid, doing normal things. Not a monster trained to kill and survive, nothing more. Then he thinks of the image of his mother's face the day she died, the way her eyes bore into his skull. He thinks of how she was ashamed of whom he was, the scrawny disgrace of two champions. He imagines her looking down on him with pride in her eyes, he sees himself walking towards his father as a champion, all of Panem cheering his name.

Then he pushes himself further.

Cato shakes his head, forcing his grin from earlier to return to his pale lips. _It's just a Game; it's all just a Game._ Cato flexes his shoulders as he glances around the meadow, shaking his thoughts from his mind. Career members are placed strategically around the clearing, in such a way that if anybody were to set off their bombs no one would be permanently injured. He also made sure that if there were any noises around the clearing at least _someone _would be able to hear it and react. With the exceptions of Peeta and the boy from district 3 who Cato could not for the life of him remember his name, the Careers have been trained form an early age to awake to even the slightest of sounds.

Once satisfied that their strategy is sound, Cato wanders towards his sleeping bag, the one by Peeta's. Clove had protested at first when Cato brought up the idea, and then Glimmer had heard and protested even harder, but he eventually won them over. _'If he _is _here to stab us all in the backs, I'm the one responsible. I'm also the only person who might have a chance of stopping him. Don't glare at me like that, Clove, you know you don't have the muscle. Just trust me on this; I _have _to be next to him.' _Oh course Cato hadn't given his true reasoning as to why he wanted to sleep beside the other boy. He couldn't risk either of the jealous girls killing the boy he hadn't had the pleasure of sweating over yet. He was still determined to have Peeta, no matter how much the other boy was convinced he was in love with that _weed._

"Who's got the first shift?" Cato hears a sleepy yet alert voice call out. Clove glances up at him, her eyes flashing like onyx in the moonlight. Cato glances over, barely hesitating in his steps as he gets closer to the other blonde boy.

"I will." Cato replies. They had already agreed that they would take shifts in sleeping back at the training camp. The Careers had been an alliance long before the Games had even started. They were always going to work together until everyone apart from them were dead. Then they would split up and kill those who they had spent so much time and effort to save. To most people it would be a sick idea, but to the Careers it made sense. Everyone already knew that they were going to be the last in the Games, why prolong it? They would kill everyone else quicker together and that means less chance of starvation or dehydration when their supplies run out.

"I'll be next." Glimmer replies suddenly from her spot on the other side of the clearing, closer to Marvel. Cato can hear the eagerness in her voice, the need to please. Cato's seen her fight; he knows the girl is fierce. So why is it that she acts so… High school when she's not fighting? It's one of those questions Cato will never know the answer to, because asking would mean getting close to her. Getting close to people is not a good idea for a blood thirsty killing monster. No, he's much rather be an acquaintance than a friend. Friends involve emotion, time and effort, three things that Cato happens to lack.

"Fine. Now get to sleep. I'll wake you up in roughly three hours. Clove will be next." And with that, all fell silent. Cato reached his sleeping bag, crouching down to the floor before slinking in. He was glad for once that his mind was such a haunted place, something that will keep him up for three hours while he takes his shift. Cato hasn't been able to get any more than four hours of sleep a night for as long as he can remember.

The world is silent for an hour until Cato notices a stirring close by. Turning his body slightly, he glances down to where Peeta's body lays, tumbling in his sleep. Blonde hair is stuck to the boy's forehead, slicked down with sweat. His expression contorts with discomfort and something else that Cato wouldn't be able to name. Wonder wells in the pit of his stomach, a strong need to know what it is Peeta's dreaming of biting into him. A pained moan rips itself from Peeta's gently opened lips, causing ripples to dance along Cato's skin. Not wanting to do something he'll regret, Cato reaches out and presses his fingers against Peeta's bare shoulder firmly, shaking slightly so the boy will awake. Peeta's eyes open wide the moment Cato initiates the skin-to-skin contact. Peeta's eyes bore into Cato's, lit up and illuminated by moonlight. It appears like his eyes are glowing, two orbs of ocean floating in space.

A soft sigh tumbles from Peeta's lips as the boy sits up. It's only then that Cato realises his hand is still on Peeta's shoulder. Reluctantly but immediately Cato rips his slightly curled fingers from the other boy's skin. This action seems to wake the other boy up properly and he shuffles away awkwardly, causing an undeniable disappointed lump to form in the pit of Cato's stomach.

"I, uhh, sorry." Peeta murmurs, ducking his eyes away from the taller boy's body. Cato can't help the small smile that forms on his lips in reaction to Peeta's obvious embarrassment.

"You seemed to be having a bad dream." Cato responds, as if waking up his enemies from a bad dream is something he always does.

"You could say that." Peeta shrugs, a faint blush burning into his cheeks. Cato feels his chest swell with a feeling he doesn't recognise.

"You 'wanna talk?" Cato murmurs, true concern flittering into his words. Peeta glances at him, arching a sceptical eyebrow. But apparently he sees sincerity in Cato's eyes.

"Yeah. I don't think I'll be able to get to sleep any time soon, so I might as well have something to do." He sighs, leaning back onto his sleeping bag. His eyes shut slightly, light reflecting onto his eyelids making them appear lavender in the moonlight. Cato is scared for a moment that he's gone to sleep, but within seconds his lips are open and he's speaking again.

"I know it'll sound weak to you, but I'm terrified. I'm terrified of losing, of dying. And I'm also terrified of what might happen if by some chance I seem to win. What world would I go back into? How much of myself would I have lost by then? I've heard that killing people kills off a piece of the soul. How many kills would I have eating away at my soul if I made my way home?" A crease crawls into the space between Peeta's eyebrows as he opens his eyes, letting them fall onto Cato's astounded face. "I can't believe I just told you all that." Peeta murmurs, his lips twisting into a faintly embarrassed smile. Cato chuckles under his breath, shaking his head faintly.

"I can't believe you did either. But I'm glad you did. I'm glad you feel as if you can. I just wish I could guarantee it's a good idea." He sighs, lying down beside the other boy without thinking. He feels more at peace than he has for years. Being with Peeta makes him feel different to how he's ever felt before in his life. It makes him feel like he could say anything, and no one would judge him for it. He could talk about how much he detests his father and Peeta would just listen. It's a nice feeling, though it makes Cato feel wary. It's not the kind of thing he can trust. Whenever there's someone out there who he thinks is willing to listen they turn out to be the least trustworthy person he could have chosen. It's easier to just seclude himself from the world. But Cato finds that he can't simply draw himself away from Peeta. Ever since he first saw him he's been magnetised to the boy. There's something attractive about being with Peeta, not just his body but the boy underneath the pretty face. It almost hurts Cato just to look at him now, to feel so close to someone who he knows he'll never truly have. Because even if he could somehow convince Peeta to be his, even if they somehow got out of the arena together, Cato is certain that Peeta's heart will always belong to the Girl on Fire.

Peeta chuckles faintly, drawing Cato from his thoughts. A gentle blush begins to grow at his cheeks, twin embers of embarrassment. He feels a momentary pang of hatred in his chest. Cato does _not _blush. It's just not something he's ever done, and he refuses to let one person change that fact.

"I don't know. I think you're a lot better than you pretend to be, Cato." Peeta's lips are twisted into a gentle smile that makes Cato heart race. Peeta turns his head, the two boys looking each other in the eye as they lay beside each other. There's something extremely intimate about the moment, something that leaves Cato's stomach flopping awkwardly in a pit at his mid riff, but it's not necessarily a bad feeling; just unusual. He can't keep his eyes from the perfect Cupid's bow that forms Peeta's lips. His eyes trace the shape involuntarily and he longs to touch his skin again, to feel his own sizzle with electricity that only seems to come from Peeta's skin. The silence stretches out for a long time, but it lays a comfortable blanket over the two boys. The moment could last forever and not only would Cato not notice but he wouldn't care.

"I know you don't want to be the good guy," Peeta whispers, his eyes refusing to drop from Cato's despite the gentle tone. "But you'd make a good one. I think you wear a mask, trying to fool everyone with your superiority." Cato smirks, the deepness of their conversation becoming almost uncomfortable.

"You don't think I'm superior? I'm offended." He jokes weakly, his expression meek. Peeta simply smiles, almost sadly, and glances away from him.

"I think you're many things, Cato, but I wouldn't use the word 'superior' to describe anyone. In my eyes it's an arrogant term: offensive." Cato swallows hard with his heart pounding in his throat. His skin feels tingly with a feeling he doesn't think has to do with the cold.

"How would you describe me, then?" He asks, his voice softer than he would have thought possible. He knows that when Peeta turns to look at him he sees vulnerability, an emotion he usually refuses to show anyone. Cato knows that Peeta sees the little boy who lost his mother all those years ago. He knows Peeta can see the boy desperate to please his near-monster of a father. If the idea didn't terrify him so much, he would swear that Peeta could see how he felt about him, just by looking in his eyes.

The final thing that Cato was sure of is that Peeta didn't care who he saw in his eyes. Cato could be a blood sucking monster and Peeta would still listen to him. Peeta would still care. Not for the fact that he has feelings for Cato, the taller boy won't even let himself _dream _of that, but because Peeta is a _good guy. _Peeta cares about people simply because he's human, and that's the human thing to do. He's been raised to be a good person, to make the most from his misfortune. He's been taught to care for and help people no matter how messed up they are.

That's why Cato can feel himself falling for Peeta, no matter how much he wishes he could ignore it.

"You're scared." Peeta whispers in return. Cato winces, hating to hear the truth said aloud. "You're terrified of failing, though you'd never admit it to anyone. Success is _your _thing. If you don't have that you don't have anything.

"You're smart: smarter than you'd ever let anyone see. And you care about people, no matter how much you wish you didn't. You don't want me here; you don't want me being a Career. I'm not sure why, but I'm sure you have good reasoning. You're scared of getting close to people, scared that they'll reject you once they know who you _really _are." Peeta smiles faintly, raising his eyes to touch the blues of Cato's. "I think you fall in love easily, but you're afraid of showing it. Love is your weakness. Weakness scares you. And then we get back to the fear." He chuckles quietly, turning to lie on his back.

"Good night, Cato." He whispers, leaving the other blonde dumbfounded. His jaw is slack as he watches Peeta's outline, the boy's body slowly falling into the recess of sleep. No one, _no one, _has ever talked to him. _No one _has ever stripped his shell away, left him trembling from the harsh reality of the world. _Especially _no one that's only known him for all of a week. Peeta's hardly ever had a conversation with him before but he's already observed enough to know who he _really _is.

The thought is terrifying, knowing that someone can see through the shield he's always kept up. But a small piece of him is glad; glad that Peeta knows who he is. Because for Peeta he wants to be better; he _wants _to be _good._

It started out with him wanting the boy's body, lusting over him in the recess of his mind where he thought nobody would ever find his thoughts. He had planned to kill the boy afterwards, to shove the memory to the back of his skull. But Cato knows he can't do that now. Because he doesn't just want Peeta's shell, he wants the man underneath. He wants to be able to call him _his._

Most of all though he wants Peeta to want him. He knows now that he won't force Peeta to be with him, it would cause him to much pain to see _anyone, _even himself, forcing Peeta into something he doesn't want.

Considering the fact that he was supposed to end the night high with blood lust and the satisfaction of murder, Cato feels hollow inside. He's done the one thing he never wanted to; he's fallen in love.

With a man he'll now have to kill.

-x-x-x-x-

**AN: I seriously didn't want to end that chapter. Hence I apologise for how shitty the ending is. I just… I don't think I really gave it much justice. I know Cato's a bit OOC in this chapter, and he probably will be from now on. There really isn't a good way to portray Cato in love, so these next chapters he won't really be the same Cato that we all know anymore. There'll be flashes of him, but he'll mainly be different.**

**I apologise for my bad portrayals. Please review and fav. The more reviews I get the more inspiration I have to keep writing**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_Previously on The Hunger:_

_Considering the fact that he was supposed to end the night high with blood lust and the satisfaction of murder, Cato feels hollow inside. He's done the one thing he never wanted to; he's fallen in love._

_With a man he'll now have to kill._

-x-x-x-x-

The smell assaults him first. Peeta's nose is clogged with smoke, drowning him with instinctive emotions of panic and fear. He finds himself reaching out beside him where he knows Cato should be. His arms freeze when they find no resistance in the sleeping bag, no body where Cato should be. A whimper rips from his lips and his eyes tear open, fear scratching into each and every nerve he has.

Light dances into his eyes, blinding him momentarily. He blinks quickly, sitting up as fast as he can. His fingers curl around the dagger that Cato gave him the day before, tightening on the hilt on the knife. His eyes blink more rapidly and soon enough shapes begin to emerge. He can still smell the fire, but he can't see it. His heart thuds painfully in his throat, and if he was looking at himself he'd think he was on crack.

A painfully high giggle dances into his ears, causing him to wince and turn. His eyes fall on Glimmer, who's watching him with amusement in her eyes. She's beautiful, there's no denying that. Even after sleeping on the floor all night and running almost the entire day before, her hair still falls into flawless curls to her waist. The sun dances on her skin in a golden glow, making her appear radiant. Even the blocky outfit that the Capitol gave them makes her look like a model, somehow hugging curves at her hips and chest where they just flatten everyone else. But when Peeta drags his eyes to look into hers, he sees who she truly is. Even from his ten foot distance from her he sees the ice in her gaze, the menace in her crystal eyes. Peeta doesn't let the crystal fool him; he knows the girl isn't fragile. He's hated her since the moment he first saw her, but he can't deny the fear that he feels when he looks her in the eye either.

"Good mooooorning." She over-enunciates, a slow smirk growing playfully at her lips. Her expression reminds Peeta of a cat with a mouse's tail caught between its claws, toying with the animal moments before it ends its life. Peeta represses a shudder as he glances around. He sees Clove at the other end of the clearing, rolling up her sleeping bag and barking orders at an annoyed-looking Marvel. So she's not a morning person, Peeta thinks absently, shrugging internally. He's not surprised.

He glances around the clearing once more, seeing the girl from 4 eating a small breakfast and the boy from 3 trying desperately to impress Clove by packing up his own sleeping bag in record timing. A small frown takes its place at Peeta's lips as he turns back to Glimmer.

"Where's Cato?" He asks, wincing at the desperation in his voice. Her eyes narrow on him and she bares her teeth in a snarl. Obviously she's more protective of the blonde than Peeta had assumed.

"He's scouting the area, checking quickly that no one's in the proximity before we set off. Now pack up your bag, Cato's too. We don't want anyone taking them while we're out." Glimmer reaches down to grab her bow, counting the arrows with smugness embracing her features. Peeta sighs, accepting that Glimmer just does _not _want to talk to him. He knows that most of the Careers don't want him around. Actually, he knows that _all _of the Careers don't want him around. He's pretty sure they're using him to find Katniss, but he doesn't mind. If it means keeping her safe from them he'll do whatever it takes.

At least that's what he used to think. He used to think that he needed Katniss like he needed air; that her life meant more than he could ever comprehend. But after his chat with Cato last night he wasn't so sure. When was the last time he had ever even spoken to Katniss, apart from their time at the Capitol? Who was she _really? _He had to force awkward conversation with her and all he knew was that she's good with an arrow and is a pretty amazing singer. Katniss was the only girl he ever had feelings for, but now that he comes to think of it, he's not sure why. Who _is _Katniss Everdeen? And why should he even care?

A frown etches into his lips as he thinks this over. The girl who he had risked his life over, the girl he had murdered for, did he really love her? Hell, did he even _like _her? He had known Cato for, what, a bit over a week, and already he knew more about him than he'd ever know about Katniss. Already he felt closer to Cato than he could ever see himself becoming with Katniss. The realisation that this girl he's fantasised over almost his entire life is just that, a fantasy, hits him hard. He nearly drops his sleeping bag that he's rolling up, his head reeling with shock.

Well, that's… confronting, he thinks, shock taking his breath away. What does he do now? What is there _to _do when your whole life's purpose is taken away from you in the blink of an eye. Looking up slowly he sees Cato walk into the clearing, and he can't help but drink in everything about the boy. The way he moves with an arrogant swagger in such a way that shows off his 'V' shaped body. His sharp hips dance, almost as if she has his own sound track continuously playing, and his upper arm muscles flex without him even realising it. Despite getting four hours, tops, sleep the night before, his face is sculpted stunningly, as if an angel did it themself. His stoic chin sticks out as he walks, keeping his head held high as he joins the rest of the group.

Peeta can't help but notice the accelerated speed in which his pulse now goes just by seeing the other boy. The soft wind pushes back Cato's stylishly tousled locks making him seem more like a model than a killer. It's not until he gasps in that Peeta realises he's been holding his breath.

A flash brings him back to the night of the interviews, his memories from that night causing him to flush uncontrollably. There's a warm hole in his stomach making him feel nearly nauseated as he tries to push the memories, his fantasies, away. Cato's hair stuck to his forehead, slick with sweat; the outline of his bare chest, smoothing down into a sharp 'V' before ducking into his sweet sex A wave of lust rolls over Peeta's body, causing the boy to shiver uncontrollably, despite the heat that he feels tumbling over him in flares.

No one's ever made him feel the way Cato does. No one's ever made him feel so confused or so disoriented. It's not like he's homophobic, but he's never seen himself as _gay. _He's never given much thought to sexuality, to be honest. His feelings for Katniss had always been so strong that he didn't think he needed to. What if Katniss had been a subconscious mask, shielding himself from this realisation? Come to think of it, he's never really been all that attracted to girls. Not even Katniss, who he had thought about every day of his life.

This second shock leaves him even more confused than he was to begin with. The boy scratches at his head, his brow creasing in frustration. He's not sure what it is, this place maybe, or possibly Cato, but it's changing him. He's losing sense of the person who he is. Or maybe it was just the person who he _thought _he was. Really, who _is _Peeta Mellark? He's the baker's son, a quiet boy who keeps to himself. He doesn't have many friends, despite the fact that he's extremely friendly to everyone he meets. Is he gay? Is her dark?

Is he falling for the most dangerous tribute in the Game?

Peeta feels his head swimming as he tries desperately to bring himself back to earth. In seconds he finds himself kneeling in the middle of the meadow, his fingers still curled around his half rolled sleeping bag. His breath comes in jagged gasps as he looks around him. The first thing he notices is two sets of eyes on him, causing his skin to crawl.

The first pair belongs to Cato. Peeta swallows back his new knowledge and forces himself not to blush. He will _not _let Cato know what he was just thinking. Cato would kill him in a second if he knew the way he made him feel. If he knew that Peeta thought there was a connection between them. He'd seem like a crazy stalker, like those girls who go to the Seem to find 'love potions'. He isn't sure what he's going to do now that he doesn't have any reason, now that he's not in the Careers just to save Katniss, but he does know that joining the Careers is a permanent thing. There's no way of getting out until everyone else is dead, there's no way of getting out. Peeta's stuck with the Careers until one of two things happen: a. Someone kills him or b. Everybody else dies.

He can just _feel _the optimism.

So no matter what, even if he decided that he wants to leave, he'd have to stay. Which means he's just going to have to mask his feelings for Cato until… well, he's going to have to mask his feelings. No one can ever know how he feels, and even if he dies in this place, he still can't tell anyone.

He looks at Cato, surprised to see concern in his gaze. Well, that explains the second pair of eyes. Glimmer is glaring at him with a look of blazing hatred. He's surprised that the girl doesn't light up in flames right then and there. It's almost amusing to see the super-model-like girl with such an ugly look of jealousy and hatred on her face. Well, it would be if it wasn't directed at him.

"Are you okay, Peeta?" He hears a familiar voice ask. Shock rocks through him as he turns to look at Cato. He tries to keep his eyes from popping right out of his skull, but he's pretty sure it isn't working. Cato is worried about him, something that he didn't think was possible. Sure, he knows that Cato isn't who he pretends to be. But he never in a million years thought that he might show the person he really is to the rest of the world.

"Uh, fine." He replies, blinking the shock from his eyes. He notices that Clove has turned to face him, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed on him. He swallows, rolling his shoulders back under the pressure of their gazes. "It's just… the smoke. It's getting to me." He frowns, glancing up. "Why is there smoke anyway?"

Cato turns his head, peering out into the horizon. The whole meadow is encircled by trees, and it seems those trees never end. Along the edge of the trees furthest back to the north smoke billows up. The smoke is steadily dancing towards them, spreading wider as it does so. A slow smirk crawls onto Cato's lips, hunger flaring his expression.

"They're flooding someone out. Come on kids, it's time for a party trick." And instantly, the sensitivity that Peeta had seen just seconds earlier is gone. Peeta feels a sharp pang in his chest; missing the moment that Cato showed he's more than what everyone thinks he is. But if it keeps Glimmer and Clove's glares away from him, he sees it as a worthy sacrifice.

Peeta watches as the faces of his fellow tributes are lit up with crazed glee, the blood lust of death sinking into their expressions. Peeta feels his stomach flop with nausea, but he drags his own manic grin to his face anyway. It's not too hard. Underneath everyone there's a bit of a monster, a wicked taste that would be easy to give into. Being amongst the Careers, Peeta's monster is closer to the surface than he normally would like, but it is convenient in times like this. At these times he has to bring the monster to the surface, he has to let it become him. Because the only way he's ever going to fool the other Careers is if he becomes one of them.

"Finish packing up. We follow the smoke in five minutes." Cato murmurs, a soft sound, but everyone in the clearing hears it. Peeta finishes wrapping up his own sleeping bag and does the same to Cato's before packing them both into one of their backpacks.

"What about the stock, Boss?" Clove pipes up, her eyebrows mashed together in the middle of her face. Peeta only then realises that she really is quite an ugly creature. Maybe if she stopped looking so God damned _grumpy _all of the time she'd almost be pretty, but it seems as if the girl doesn't know how to.

Cato turns around, looking around the clearing as he considers her words.

"Marvel will stay with it tonight. We'll kill whoever the Game Makers are trying to flood out tonight, and then be back by tomorrow morning. Now let's move it." Cato takes one of the backpacks with supplies for the night in it and hikes it over his shoulders. Without waiting to see if everyone else is ready or not, he begins the trek to the fire.

The rest of the Careers, apart from a grumpy looking Marvel, scramble to get the rest of their stuff together before jogging after Cato. Peeta's at the back of the line with a hefty pack hiked high onto his back. He doesn't like being at the back, where anyone could be creeping behind him. But he guesses it's better than being behind Glimmer, where the blonde could shoot him in the back at any given moment.

They walk for a long time until they hear the tell-tale crackle of fire dying down. A murmur of anticipation tumbles through the group as their speed picks up rapidly. Peeta feels a faint nervousness spread through him. What if it's Katniss? Even if he isn't in love with her, she's still from his district. It's not like he can just stand back and watch the Careers kill her. What would the people at home think? He imagines Prim, her child-like face crumpling as she watches her sister fall to the ground, blood pooling around her. Or worse, what if she has to see the Careers torturing Katniss? Because Peeta knows how much his alliance hates the girl from his district. He knows that they wouldn't let her death be merciful.

The Careers are at a downright sprint when they cross by a small lake. Peeta's ears prick when he hears splashing. His head turns to see it, but he's too late. The rest of the Careers have already seen it: Katniss, in the lake.

Peeta feels his heart lurch into her chest, his eyes widening involuntarily. He absently hears Cato whistling, sees Glimmer and Clove sprint right into the way like over excited puppies. He can see the twistedly manic glee on Cato's beautiful face as he chases after them, but he's lost the ability to feel anything. Katniss was in the fire, it was Katniss they spent the last hour hunting. It was Katniss who was going to die. All of district 12 is going to watch him be a part of Katniss' death just days after confessing his love for her.

Bile rises in the back of Peeta's throat, but he moves his legs anyway. He _has _to. He has to stay with the Careers now, no matter what. Nothing else is really important. Maybe if he stays with them he can let Katniss' death be as merciful as possible. Maybe then he can justify his participation.

Peeta pushes his legs a bit harder, frustrated by the resistance of the lake's water, but he rushes through as fast as he can. Once he makes it out of the lake it isn't hard to follow their track. His fellow Careers and Katniss weren't exactly being stealthy as they sprinted through the growth, leaving a clear track. Peeta soon hears cat calls and the whistle of a bow shooting through the air. Hearing this makes him run harder until he almost collides into Cato's back. Panting slightly, he glances at the Careers, noticing that they're all looking into a tree. He follows their gaze to find Katniss, her leg ripped and burnt, but otherwise safe. She's holding on to that tree for dear life, Peeta can see that even from his distance, but she's high enough up that none of the Careers would be able to follow her.

Apparently though, need clouds Cato's judgment. He turns around and thrusts his sword into Peeta's hands, not even thinking for a second that maybe he shouldn't be trusting him, before walking over to the tree.

"You go Cato!" Peeta hears Glimmer call, amongst other things. The boy is still feeling faintly dead on the inside, but his eyes stay locked on Cato as he steadily makes his way up the tree. Peeta can't help but be surprised at Cato's still. He wouldn't have thought that someone so big would be able to climb even half of what he manages. But still, only a third as high as Katniss has gotten, Cato falls to the ground, landing with a painful 'thump' and a groan. Peeta winces in sympathy before crouching down and extending a helping hand. Cato's eyes fall on Peeta's outstretched hand, scepticism clear in his expression for a moment before taking the hand and allowing Peeta to help him up.

Electricity sets fire to every nerve in Peeta's body for the duration of their touch, sending goose bumps all up his arms and neck. He hopes that no one sees, and is suddenly glad that they're all so focused on Katniss. Cato only watches him for all of two seconds before turning his attention back to the girl in the tree.

It's only then that Peeta realises Glimmer has been trying to shoot Katniss out of the tree. Well, that explains the sound of bows earlier. He isn't too surprised when Glimmer misses not once but twice, and a twisted satisfaction nestles into his stomach. He's glad to see something that the blonde can't do.

Cato growls in Peeta's ear, still dangerously close after being helped up. Peeta's can't help the goose bumps that pepper his skin in reaction to the sound. Lust attacks him before he can push it away, making him bite down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood. _So not the time._

The reason for Cato's growl turns out to be frustration, which is shown when he grabs the silver bow from Glimmer viciously.

"Let me do it." He spits, pure wrath in his voice. Peeta can't help the slight amount of confusion. Sure, he knows how much Cato hates Katniss and he knows that he sees her as competition, but that doesn't explain just how much he hates her. It doesn't explain the pure wrath and anger that he shows after two attempts on her life fail. What could make _anyone _hate someone else that much? Especially when Katniss has never done anything to Cato?

Cato aggressively takes one of Glimmer's arrows from her carrier on her back before setting it up with the arrow. His hard fingers move professionally, proving that he's quite the expert with a bow and arrow. He aims high in the tree before letting go of the arrow, letting it whistle through the wind. It gets much closer to the mark than Glimmer's shots did, but it's still not enough. This alone is the decider for Peeta. If Cato can't shoot her down then no one will be able to; it's not worth wasting the arrows.

"Maybe you should throw the sword!" Katniss baits, trying to put up a strong front. But Peeta, who knows her a little bit better than the other Careers, can hear the nerves and uncertainty in her voice. Her feeble attempt at baiting turns out to be enough for Cato though, who growls and tries to shoot another arrow, missing narrowly.

"Let's just wait her out." Peeta calls, reaching forward to rest a daring hand on Cato's shoulder. The taller blonde turns to Peeta with an arched eyebrow, as if he doesn't understand. He can hear Glimmer hissing under her breath, a sound like hearing nails on a chalkboard.

"She has to come down sometime." He adds, fighting the battle with his words. He watches the stages of Cato's expression, from the scepticism between his eyebrows to the acceptance in his endless-ocean eyes.

"You heard him." He murmurs, dropping the bow and arrow to his side, letting his arms go limp. There's a moment of indecision that ripples through the Career pack, before Cato sits down defiantly, letting his backpack drop to the floor behind him. Two seconds later, the rest of the pack are on the ground in a circle, waiting for the Girl on Fire.

They wait for three long, boring hours, until they hear the national anthem of Panem lacing through the air. Peeta glances into the sky, knowing what to expect. The face of the boy from district 10 fills the sky, showing the fallen. A soft buzzing fills Peeta's ears, rippling his eyebrows with slight confusion. Something dribbles down on the Careers, almost like saw dust, and in the very back of his mind he hears a soft choke of pain.

Peeta looks up to where Katniss is in the tree, realising what's going on a moment too soon.

Peeta's eyes widen as he sees the tracker jacker nest falling down on them, exploding in the middle of their circle into a swarm of pissed bugs. Everything gets a bit confusing after that. Pain shocks him, dancing along his arms and legs as he jumps up, trying to run away. Screams fill his ears, but he's not sure who they belong to. Arms fling everywhere, desperately trying to keep the wasp-like creatures away from them.

Peeta has never seen a tracker jacker before, but his father told him all about them when he was very young. He hadn't understood much then, but he had known he never wanted to get stung by a tracker jacker. Oh, how right he was. His skin is on fire, venom dripping through his system, setting him on fire internally. Pain distorts his vision and the entire world waves around him. His ears feel like they're going to explode with the sounds of the Careers screams. Distantly he sees two bodies on the floor, stings the size of plums sticking out from their bodies with green puss oozing from their skin.

A hand finds his own and before he knows who it belongs to, they're running. The forest zooms by him in a shock of green and brown, blurring by him in a kaleidoscope of panic. There aren't so many screams now, but the one that's left is jagged and sharp, as if the screamer has swallowed a milkshake of broken glass. His own throat burns and he can taste blood. He must have been screaming, although he can't remember it.

He stumbles often as he runs, but the mystery hand pulls him up every time. He knows that he should find out who it is that saved him, but he can't seem to focus on one thing for too long. Plus, he can't trust anything he sees in this state. Peeta's last scrap of common sense reminds him of that, remembering that tracker jacker stings often result in hallucinations. Is he hallucinating now? Is he dead, a member of the fallen back beneath Katniss' tree? Does the hand really belong to someone, or is he dreaming?

What can he trust, when his eyes deceive him?

The hand lets go of him and he finds himself falling. A moment of clarity shows him that he's in the clearing by the Cornucopia. A strange giggle laces its way into his throat. It seems like a million years ago that he was last here; was it really just this morning? Everything's different now, he's sure of it, although he doesn't know what's changed.

Dark figures blur his vision and he hears more screaming. No, now it's more like shouting. The more he tries to focus, the more the fire burns him. But he forces his eyes to concentrate on the vague figures. After a few seconds he recognises Clove, splotchy with stings and Cato, fury etched into his features. Their lips are moving and it takes a tremendous effort, but Peeta eventually hears their words.

"…was his fault!" It's Clove screeching, her fingers pointing to Peeta. If he wasn't in so much pain he'd be terrified. "He knew what she was planning! That's exactly why he made us wait, so she could dump those _bugs _on us! We _have _to kill him Cato, don't you dare try to deny me that." Her voice lowers slightly as she grabs one of her daggers at her belt. The short girl turns to face Peeta, her eyes dark with rage as she pulls the dagger back, preparing to throw it at him.

"_No!" _The single word roars through the clearing tremendously, shaking Peeta to his very bones. He can hardly stay connected to reality. In the corner of his eye his brothers stand in the clearing, watching him with blank faces. Their eyes are hollowed out, gone, and their lips twist into bitter smiles as they await his smile.

"You deserve this." The oldest hisses. Peeta's heart rate picks up and he feels like screaming. A slow cackle attacks him from all sides and he twists away from his brothers in time to see the blade pointing at him. By this point, the fire in his veins is bad enough he'll embrace death. He's hopeful for the moment Clove's dagger penetrates his chest, letting blood pool from him. The poison will leave his body and for just a moment there will be no more pain.

But his dreams of a merciful death are shattered as a massive figure leaps for the dagger. There's a screech, and the dagger comes flying towards Peeta, who's crumpled into the ground like a wounded puppy. Agony rips from his thigh, coaxing another scream from his raw and ragged throat. Blood and bile fills his mouth and he finds himself choking on the taste, although nothing comes out.

Peeta's forces his eyes to drag up from the ground. He vaguely sees the dagger shoved into his thigh, sticking out at a painful angle. He notes that Clove is pushed into the ground, mud and dirt creating a blanket over her body. Shock is etched into her ugly features, her eyes looking imprecisely towards Peeta. Confusion dances through his body, until he feels arms cradling him, lifting his near-dead body from the waving ground.

Comfort surrounds him externally, but it isn't enough to end the fire on the inside. His vision is spotted with black and grey, and he knows he'll die soon. He just has seconds left now. In his last moment he looks up to the person holding him. Even in his disoriented state he recognises the sharp lines of Cato's chin.

_Cato. Cato stopped her; Cato stopped me._

"If you want to kill him, you'll have to go through me." Cato calls, his words like a hot knife through butter as he calls to the members of the clearing. With that, he turns and starts running. Peeta can feel the world shaking around him, fragile as a leaf. With his weakened arms he clutches to Cato, clutches to life, but he knows it's pointless. He's just glad that the boy will be the last thing he sees.

"Let the Games begin."

And then the world goes black.

-x-x-x-x-

**AN: MY GAWD GUIIIIS! I've plotted out the rest of the story! After this there will only be six more chapters (:c) which means we're halfway now. Good news though, I've also planned that there's going to be a sequel (review if you want to know what it'll be called!) so if, at the twelfth chapter you feel disappointed by the ending (which, if you like this story, you probably will be) don't worry, the show shall go on.**

**But, oh my God, I'm so excited. I've never planned out a story like this and I just can't **_**wait **_**to see it finished! Keep reviewing because I love you all**

**Also I'm sorry for leaving this on a cliff hanger! I didn't know how else to end it. Even as it is I don't like it.**

**But wow. 4,710 words in this chapter. Might not be that long to some people but it's by far my longest chapter. I hope you love it. Keep reviewing! The more you review the faster the next chapter comes up!**

**PS: I started out this story thinking it would be completely smothered with smut. Turns out there's only one smut chapter (so long as you don't count the first chapter). But there will be lots more in the sequel **


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_Previously on The Hunger:_

"_If you want to kill him, you'll have to go through me." Cato calls, his words like a hot knife through butter as he calls to the members of the clearing. With that, he turns and starts running. Peeta can feel the world shaking around him, fragile as a leaf. With his weakened arms he clutches to Cato, clutches to life, but he knows it's pointless. He's just glad that the boy will be the last thing he sees._

"_Let the Games begin."_

_And then the world goes black._

-x-x-x-x-

_I can't believe I did that._

Awe and amazement racks through Cato's body. _Did I _really _do that? _Glancing down at the boy in his arms, even as distorted as he is, is answer enough.

_Yes; yes I did._

It's been an hour since Katniss dropped the tracker jacker nest on them but Cato still can't believe it. He can't believe that she got away; he can't believe that Clove tried to blame it on Peeta; he can't believe that he went against her. He glances down at the boy in his arms, wincing at his appearance. He's amazed that Peeta survived at all, but he can still feel his pulse, consistent while everything else confuses him. Peeta must have been stung at least twenty times, two of which are on his face. Everywhere is puffy, some of the worse stings oozing with thick, gunky, green puss. Hatred for Katniss overwhelms him, leaving him seeing green. How _dare _she do this? He doesn't care what her reasoning was, she hurt Peeta; _his _Peeta. It's simply inexcusable.

His arms feel heavy with the weight of Peeta in his arms, but he won't leave Peeta; he simply _can't. _It's like thinking of not breathing, or stabbing yourself in the chest. It's not something you consider. But he's going to have to stop soon. Under any other circumstances Cato would be able to walk for days on end, but Peeta's a pretty big guy and, as much as he hates to say it, he _is _weighing him down. Plus he isn't sure how long Peeta will last with his injuries before the pain becomes too much. He's not sure how well he'd go at giving him medical treatment though, especially for the hole in his leg.

While he walks Cato considers carefully what happened in the last hour. The last real memory he has, the last one that isn't fuzzy with tracker jacker venom, is lying under Katniss' tree, waiting her out. Then the world exploded in a reign of black and yellow. He's never seen a tracker jacker before, well, before now anyway, but he knows of them _very _well. It was tracker jackers who killed his mother all those years ago. She had been wandering through the forest on the skirts of District 2 when she found them, a whole nest. She had assumed they were bees, a bug that might hurt her a little bit, but wouldn't be fatal if they stung her.

She was wrong.

Cato's father was never quite the same after that. After his mother's death Cato's father became obsessed with muttations. He taught Cato about all of them, how to heal himself if ever he were attacked by any muttation. So Cato had straight away recognised the tracker jackers for what they were. The funny thing was, despite the fact multiple stingers had buried themselves deep into his arms the moment the nest touched the ground, all the blonde could think of was Peeta. He had found Peeta in seconds, although it felt like centuries, not knowing how much damage was being done to the boy, and gripped his hand with as much strength as possible. For a terrifying heartbeat he had been concerned that Peeta wouldn't follow where he pulled him, but after little coaxing the boy followed in pursuit.

Cato had gone to the first place he thought of; the meadow. He hadn't considered for a second that anyone else would have gone there. He hadn't thought that maybe they were more similar than he would have liked. And he _definitely _didn't stop to consider maybe she'd blame Peeta. Sweet, gentle Peeta, as if he would ever be a part of such a scheme. A knot in Cato's stomach tells him that not even Katniss knew what she was planning until the nest was already falling. The tableau replays before his eyes, the air one moment clear, only faintly stained with smoke, the next swarmed with furious bugs. Something tells him that image will be burned into his eyelids for a long while, there to haunt him each time he shuts his eyes.

Reaching the meadow, he had been almost glad when he saw Clove. Although he hates the girl, he didn't want the entire alliance to be murdered in one sweep. Then she had started screaming, saying everything was Peeta's fault. Then the knife, oh the knife. Cato hadn't realised he was leaping until he crashed into the girl, but it was too late. The knife had already slipped from her skilled fingers, missing his chest and plunging into Peeta's leg instead. It could be worse, Cato guesses. She could have made her target and then Peeta would be dead.

_Peeta can't die._

Pain stabs through Cato's chest, but not in the way he's used to. He's familiar to physical pain, to the burn of exercise of even the fire of a knife's touch, but emotional pain is something he has never been acquainted with. Despite never having felt it before, not since his mother's death anyway, Cato recognised it instantly. He was scared for Peeta; he didn't want him to die. For a small piece of Cato would die with him if Peeta was gone from this world.

_Peeta can't die._

Feeling the need to reassure himself, the tall blonde looks down to the boy in his arms. The stings on Peeta's face are so puffed he can hardly see the handsome boy he was not even two hours ago. Peeta's eyes are shut and Cato guesses that even if he were conscious he wouldn't be able to open them, thanks to the swelling of the stings. Absentmindedly Cato knows he has to take the stings out and find some of those leaves, the ones his father told him about. Though Cato's never had use for them before, these leaves apparently heal tracker jacker stings within hours. As for the cut at Peeta's leg though, the one still dripping with blood, Cato's at a bit of a loss. He was never taught first aid for cuts, only muttation poisoning and attacks. He knew enough to maybe delay Peeta's death, but survival was still a slim hope in the very back of Cato's mind.

Cato draws his eyes away from the other blonde's distorted face, feeling his stomach curl uncomfortably in his stomach. He puts all other thoughts behind him and focuses on one: survival. The first thing he needs is a safe haven, a place where he can leave Peeta and not be concerned of the boy dying on him. He needs to get out of the main arena where anyone could see him and he wouldn't even know it until the spear bit deep into his back, protruding from his stomach in a fountain of blood.

Breathing evenly to keep from becoming exhausted, Cato looks at his surroundings. He's walking by the lake, the one that they found Katniss in after the Gamemakers tried flushing her out. His lips press together in a tight line, the scent of smoke still heavy in the air. He can feel it on him, ash slowly building up on his exposed skin, wanting to bury him. With all the smoke in the way, he has to strain his eyes to see anything at all. The lake's water is reasonably clear, surrounded by a natural barricade of rocks. He notices a faint shape in the background of the lake and he strains his eyes further to see. His eyes begin to sting with the ash and effort, but it doesn't take him long to realise what the shape is. A large boulder, adjacent to what appears to be a small cave. Hope wells in his chest unwillingly and he springs towards the cave.

Despite walking speedily, the four minute walk feels as if it lasts forever. He knows that this could be a turning point, if he actually has somewhere to leave Peeta and to nurse him back to health. This could be the thing that saves them. _Them? _Since when did he start thinking of them as a team? He knows that there's no way of them both surviving, and there's no way Cato will give his own life up. _Not even for Peeta? _A faint voice whispers in the back of his mind, raising goose bumps along his arms. As much as he wishes to say yes, that he wouldn't even give up his life for Peeta, he knows it's a lie. Ever since he watched the Reaping on the TV he knew he wouldn't be able to kill the other blonde. Fascination had bitten into him, something that was quickly nursed into obsession; he was obsessed with Peeta. Despite his entire life being about surviving, about making his way out of the Games as a champion and finally making his father proud, he knows that if it came down to it, he'd pick Peeta's life over his own. It's not a guarantee that the boy held in his arms will win, but it's an assurance that Cato certainly will not.

Cato blinks ash and soot out of his eyes as he stands before the cave, drawing away from his thoughts forcefully. His heart rate increases significantly but he hardly notices it; all of his focus is on the cave in front of him. Suddenly, his arms become so tired, and he nearly drops Peeta. Despite knowing he really should be checking out the cave a bit more before entering, he steps through the threshold, breathing in the cool scent of stone around him. Gently he kneels down, placing Peeta on the stone floor. Goose bumps ripple up the boy's arms from the cold, but he makes no other gesture to show he can feel it. A frown finds its way to Cato's lips but he refuses to think of it too much. Instead he looks around, analysing the cave with uncertainty. It's a small space, just a rounded room. The walls are rough where pressure has shaped it over the years, but Cato gets the feeling that Gamemakers have hollowed the cave further, leaving refuge for Tributes like himself. It would make the Games last longer if Tributes have a place to bring themselves back to health.

Nodding to himself, giving himself confidence that he's doing the right thing, he kneels down again beside the other boy. His eyes fall onto Peeta and fear pangs in his chest. The other boy's skin is pale and slick with sweat, his breathing is shallow and when Cato reaches out and presses his fingers gently against the other boy's throat, his pulse is slight. What if Peeta's death is imminent? What if nothing he can do will save the other boy? A harsh gasp takes over his mouth, one that he convinces himself is in reaction to the cold, as he leans down to take the stingers from where Peeta was stung. It would have been ideal to do that instantly after Peeta was stung, but this is the first chance he's had. Silently he counts as he pulls, finding 22 stings visibly on the boy.

A low moan fills the cave sending ripples of shock to dance along Cato's arms. His heart rate dances along with it, more of a cha-cha than the average waltz. His face contorts into an expression of hope, concern and fear as he leans in slightly closer to the boy beneath him.

"Peeta?" He whispers, vulnerability clear in his shaking voice. Another moan ripples through the cave, this time louder, and Cato feels the anticipation and anxiety escalate in his veins. Of course he's excited that Peeta's wakening, even if he still is injured greatly, even if his death wouldn't be a surprising outcome. But he's also terrified. What will Peeta's reaction be when he sees Cato hovering above him, when the memories of the past hours attack him? Will he be angry? Grateful? Confusion will be obvious, but what else will Peeta feel? Will he realise why it is Cato saved him?

With his heart in his throat, Cato sees Peeta's eyes fluttering open faintly. Confusion and disorientation is clear in his eyes, but also relief.

"Cato." The other boy sighs, letting his eyes to droop shut. Cato exhales loudly, not quite a sigh but not quite a breath either. It might just be the poison talking, but Peeta isn't angry. That's good, that's very good.

"Cato?" Peeta repeats, more questioning this time. He opens his eyes again, fuller this time. A faint crease falls in line between his eyebrows as his eyes focus a bit more on the boy in front of him. Panic smashes into Cato, not knowing what Peeta's thinking. He knows he should leave now, run before he gets hurt, but he can't bring himself to do it. He can't bring himself to leave the boy that captured his heart within a few days.

"I'm right here, Peeta." He whispers, instinctively leaning closer to the boy. With the need to touch the younger boy overwhelming him, he reaches out with delicate fingers and brushes locks of humid hair from his perpetrating skin. Another moan crawls from the boy's skin, this time approval intertwined into the sound.

"Am I dead, Cato?" He whispers, forcing his eyes open again. They had fallen shut when Cato's fingers brushed his skin, and now Cato could see the immense struggle it take shim just to do something as simple as opening his eyes.

"No." He whispers, fingers kissing his forehead with feather light touches once more. "And I won't let you die." He adds, fierceness creeping into the promise. He notes that Peeta's lips, paler than even the rest of his face, twist into the barest ghost of a smile. "But I do have to leave you, Peeta. I have to leave you to save you, to keep my promise. There are things that I need to keep you well. But it won't take long, I promise. I promise I'll be back as fast as I can." A low moan growls in Peeta's chest, reluctance to let the other boy go. Cato can't help it when the unwillingness to be without him shoots his heart into his throat, pounding at a rate he didn't think possible. He tries to calm himself, to tell himself that the other boy is simply delusional with poison. But the hope remains, twisting in his veins, worse than any poison. He fears the hope, is terrified by the thought that he might be setting himself up to be disappointed.

"I'll be back soon." He whispers, hesitating slightly before leaning down and pressing his lips gingerly to the boy's forehead. He feels him sigh beneath him, pleasure dancing through him despite his death still being a very possible option. Cato's eyelids shut against his will, and it takes all of his will power to stand up and walk away from the dying boy, refusing to look back as he does.

It's only once he's outside the cave in the fresh air that he realises just how hot the confined space was. The air forces itself upon him, slicking his hair to his forehead. He hadn't even realised he had been sweating. Apparently Peeta's fever was ferocious enough that his body heat had affected him. Long ago thought of dreams swim into his mind, fantasies where he would share more than body heat with the other boy, but he banishes them instantly. The boy could be _dying _for crying out loud! He can't be thinking of having sexual relations with the boy.

He glances around, choosing to distract himself from the thoughts in the forefront of his mind. If he were out in the Districts he would be guessing it was 6 or 7 pm. The adults of the District would just be coming home from their labour on various weapons in the workshops, all but the Victors where he lived. Thanks to his father and mother's championships the year before he was born, Cato had never known what it was like to exist as part of the District. He had been a member of royalty, all because his parents knew how to yield swords. He should be grateful, he thinks absently. Because of them he never knew what it was like to fear the Hunger Games. But maybe he should have feared them. He _is _only a few days into the Games, and already he's fallen in love for the first time, had members of his alliance killed off, then been all but banished from the same very alliance. Now he's stuck with a dying boy and almost no hope of survival.

A small part of him is glad.

He turns behind him, fear suddenly creeping along his skin. What if the Careers found their hiding place, and Cato wasn't there to defend Peeta? All he has left is a small dagger her had stored in a sheath by his ankle, but it's better than leaving Peeta there defenceless. He notes the boulder beside the cave, an idea sparking to his mind. He makes his way to the boulder and begins pushing it in front of the cave, a makeshift door.

While he pushes he thinks back to the Careers, trying to think who was still alive. He was certain Clove was alive, unless she had died in the past two hours. He'd be almost disappointed if she did; he wanted to be the one killing her. He tries to think harder, but tracker jacker poison blurs his memory. He had already taken out his stings before Clove started yelling at Peeta, and he had had a lot less stings than Peeta had, so he wasn't affected to bad. Still, the memory is fuzzy. Instead he thinks back to when the nest fell, thinking past his anxiety over Peeta and his own pain. He was certain that the girl from 4 and the boy from 3 were dead, he remembers seeing their bodies crumpled on the ground. He had also seen Glimmer's bow, but not the blonde herself.

So that left Glimmer, Clove and Marvel still alive. Cato dusts his hands slightly as he pushes the boulder the last of the way before walking out into the forest, attempting to find the leaves his father told him about. Whilst he searches, he thinks of Peeta. _No, you're not thinking about Peeta, _the slight section of his mind that refuses to acknowledge his love for the boy hisses. _You're thinking of his wounds, and how he'll survive if you must insist on dragging him around._

He wasn't too concerned by the tracker jacker stings. They should be healed within a few days if he gathers enough leaves and changes them often. The gash at Peeta's thigh however, that was a problem. He's going to have to cut up his jacket when he gets back, making it into a makeshift tourniquet to stop the bleeding. After that he'd have to pray for a miracle from either his or Peeta's mentors, most likely the latter. For the first time since coming into the Games, Cato thinks to the cameras that are no doubt watching him prowl right now. What does his father think? What do his friends think? What do Peeta's friends and family think? An uneasy feeling settles in his stomach, and he's not too sure why. He's never cared for what other people think of him before, but then again, before he never 'came out of the closet', as people say. What if a subliminal piece of him has always been afraid of people's opinions?

He knows that Peeta wouldn't have too much to worry about now, even if he was healing. So a guy had saved his life, big deal. It's not like Peeta's kissed him or anything; that would be the point of no return. And Cato hasn't done anything too drastic, but he knows that the people back home wouldn't find him being very characteristic. They've probably guessed by now, just based on the past two hours alone. He isn't sure how he feels about that, about the whole world knowing he's into guys. He's supposed to be the fearless Tribute from District 2, the last time he checked, gay didn't really go well with the whole 'fearless Tribute' thing.

He puts his thoughts beside him when he sees a familiar plant. Jogging over quickly, a grin ripples on his lips. It's definitely the plant that his father showed him, so many times before. The plant's completely green, no flowers, just plain green leaves sprouting from the branches. It's just small, almost like a weed, but when he looks around he sees more. His father had always said these plants grew in bunches, almost as if they were scared of being alone. Right now Cato felt like getting down on his knees and thanking the Gods for such a gift, knowing there's enough here to heal Peeta's stings within the next two days.

With a nearly savage grin he reaches down and grabs handfuls of the leaves, plucking them from the small plants without breaking a sweat. He doesn't take any more than he needs though, a bit over forty to last this rotation and the next. He doesn't want to take too many and not have enough for the next few days.

With his pockets pull of medicinal leaves, Cato turns to jog back to the cave, finding it easily. His feet are swift on the ground and he manages to not crunch anything, the way he was taught during his training back at District 2. He finds himself in front of the cave in a matter of minutes, pushing the boulder aside to let himself through.

The cave is a strange place to be in, he realises the second he steps in. With its stone walls, roof and floor, the outer ring of the cave is freezing. But with Peeta in the centre, his fever burning high, the heart of the cave is scorching hot. Cato finds himself both shivering and sweating at the same time as he kneels down by Peeta's side.

"Peeta?" He whispers, instinctive fear in his voice. The other boy isn't moving and Cato hasn't seen his chest move since he walked in. What if Peeta died while Cato was out? What if he's alone now? But seconds after the word is out of his mouth, Peeta's eyes flutter open. The normally vibrant blue is currently hazed over, almost like a blind person, but it's a relief nonetheless.

"Peeta, I brought medicine." He whispers, tugging the leaves from his pocket and starting to place them over the other boy's stings. Cato can almost feel Peeta's relief filling the confined space; can see the way his muscles relax at just the touch of the vegetation. A slow smile finds its way to Cato's lips as he places the last leaf on him. When he decides there's not much more he can do for Peeta's stings right now, he puts a few leaves on the few stings he obtained as well.

His eyes then fall upon Peeta's leg. The bleeding has slowed dramatically, but there's still a pool of blood beneath him. Cato cringes, noting just how pale Peeta's skin is. He instantly tugs his jacket off, ignoring the shivering that takes over his body, and rips the mid riff of the jacket off. He ties it around Peeta's thigh just above the gash tightly, but not so tightly that he'll lose circulation in his leg. There isn't much hope for it, but Cato's aiming to keep Peeta's leg alive. There's a high possibility that Peeta's leg will be amputated once the Games are over, if he wins, but if there's anything Cato can do to stop that from happening he will.

"Better? He asks quietly, twisting his legs slightly to hover over Peeta easier. He watches at the boy's eyelids droop to a close, an almost drugged-out smile flitting to his lips.

"Much." He replies, his voice weak. Cato presses his own lips together in a flat line.

"Rest up, heal. I'll wake you if anything happens." Cato murmurs, but Peeta is already asleep.

Hours pass quietly. Cato pulls the boulder to close off the cave, but for the most time he just watches Peeta sleeping. A few issues pass in his mind, such as what they'll do for food once Peeta's a bit better. He's not sure about the other boy, but Cato sure as Hell can't hunt and he wouldn't have a clue about edible plants. He always knew he was going to get his supplies from the Cornucopia; anything else was unthinkable.

After an eternity of watching the vulnerable lines of Peeta's sleeping face, Cato notices his eyelids fluttering open. Cato's breath catches in his throat, knowing that this time when Peeta wakes up things will be different. He won't be so disoriented this time, and nothing he does can be blamed on the tracker jacker poison. The leaves would have sucked it out by now and will be on their way to healing the stings' appearance.

Slowly Peeta's eyes come to focus on Cato, confusion welling in his features.

"Cato?" He asks, disorientation taking over his body. He looks around the cave, his eyebrows creased together tightly.

"Hey."

"What happened?" Cato sighs faintly, shaking his head. Peeta presses his lips together in a tight line, trying hard to remember the contents of the past day.

"The tracker jackers." He whispers, shivering. He glances back to Cato for confirmation, but he already knows it's true. Cato nods slowly, wetting his lips.

"You saved me." Peeta adds, his voice not so certain this time. Cato hesitates, his entire body screaming at him to run now, but instead he just nods. There's a long silence in the cave along with an awkward tension. Finally, Peeta speaks.

"Why?" He whispers, making Cato cringe. It's not as if Peeta speaks negatively, simply inquisitively. Still, Cato's terrified to tell him the truth, and he can't think of another lie that would work.

"You don't want to know."

"Why?" Peeta repeats, his eyes boring into Cato's skin. The bigger blonde sighs, turning to face him.

"It seems that I've… that I've come to care for you. I couldn't let her kill you, and I couldn't stay there after I defended you; they would have killed me. So here I am, almost like an outlaw." He chuckles quietly, his voice void of humour. Peeta's lips tighten, making his face impossible to read, and Cato looks away. _What the _Hell _is wrong with you? _He asks himself, shaking his head absently. _This is _so _not how Cato acts._

Silence follows, and when Peeta's mouth opens once more the conversation has changed. "Can you hunt?"

"No. Can you?"

"No. What are we going to do for food?"

Cato bites down on the edge of his lower lip, voicing and idea he had earlier. "I was thinking of going back to the Cornucopia; of stealing from them. Maybe I can even kill one of the Careers while I'm there, it would be a win win situation. I could probably hunt if I really tried, but I'd probably find something poisonous. My trainers never taught me how to hunt; my strategy was always to take supplies from the Cornucopia. I say we stick to that strategy." Out of the corner of his eye he sees Peeta shake his head.

"No."

"No?"

"No. I'm not letting you go out there; I won't let you get hurt. I get that you need to eat to, but if anything happened I'd just convince myself you got hurt for me. No." Peeta turns to face him, his eyes dark in the dim light. The silence is so thick he can not only hear but count his heart beats.

"I need to do this. I wasn't asking, I was telling you." Cato replies after a few minutes of silence. Peeta's expression crumples, pain etching into his skin.

"Please, Cato." He replies, his voice a painful beg. "Promise me you won't go. I don't care about the food, we'll figure something out. Just don't go, promise me. Stay here. Sleep. We'll work something out in the morning." Peeta's eyes open wide, reminding Cato of a puppy dog. He swallows faintly, trying to keep his promise out of his mouth. He's going; nothing Peeta says or does will change that. But right now, when he's looking at him like that, it's so hard to resist.

"No, Peeta. I'm going. I've thought about this for hours now; it's the only way." He shakes his head, his eyebrows creasing with the pain of denying him. "I'm sorry."

Peeta's eyelids tremble shut and he takes a deep breath. "What if I can convince you?" He whispers. Cato's crease in confusion. Peeta's eyes open once more and Cato only has a second before he knows what's happening next.

Peeta's lips come crushing down on his own, taking him in a breathtaking kiss. Cato gasps with the force and responds immediately, his fingers reaching out in search of Peeta. His fingers grip Peeta's hair, pulling his face closer to his own. He loses all sense of self control and becomes lost to the fire, consumed by all that makes Peeta who he is.

Peeta lets out a gasp of surprise, he had obviously intended it to be a gentle kiss, but he is soon lost to the flames that dance between them. His arms reach around Cato's neck, gripping the boy in an almost painful lock. His tongue flitters from between his teeth, sliding over Cato's lower lip to ask for entrance. Cato's lips open, a low moan growing in his chest.

He's kissed boys before, of course. Many of times. He's even slept with boys before, more than he'd like to admit. Definitely more than he'd ever been with any girl. But right now, everything else pales in comparison to Peeta. His whole existence is like a meteor, flashing in Cato's eyes, leaving him blinded and stunned. Peeta's kiss leaves him overwhelmed, deprived of air and sinking into an abyss of lust. Normally he'd hate that anyone can have this much control over him, hate that with one simply kiss Peeta has made him ravenous with desire. The hunger takes over him, leaving him a monster, wanting only one thing.

Their tongues meet and electricity dances through Cato's entire body. He can feel his skin crackling with yearning. He doesn't just want to feel Peeta's kiss and touch, he _needs _it. Being without it too long with be like going without air. It's unthinkable. Here, no, with their bodies entwined, Cato knows this is what he was born for. Nothing else will ever fill him with such purpose as Peeta does.

Peeta's arms slip from around his neck, ducking to his waist. A groan of wanting ripples between them, and Cato isn't even sure who it belongs to. Peeta's finger nails dig into the skin at Cato's hips, pulling their bodies closer still. Nothing will be close enough, Cato decides. Even if they somehow became one, shared a body, they still wouldn't be close enough.

Their pulses race and Cato's close enough that he's not sure if it's Peeta's heart beat he's feeling or his own. None of this matters. He's been in the desert for an eternity and Peeta is water and oh is he so thirsty.

A gasp overtakes them both as Peeta pulls away, both of their breath hastened. Cato puffs as if he has just finished a marathon, his eyes locked on Peeta's. The boy is flushed under his pallor, sweat dripping from his body. Although he didn't realise it during their kiss, sweat kisses Cato's body as well.

"Stay." Peeta orders, catching his breath gradually. Cato doesn't even consider the demand before nodding. He watches the boy beneath him sigh in relief before reaching out for another kiss.

This one is sweeter, softer. The hunger is still there beneath them, threatening to take them over, but it's slightly sated now. Peeta tastes a mix of peppermint and sweat on Cato's lips, a taste leaving him breathless. Once more he forgets how to breathe, his body taking over with instinct.

All too soon they separate. Cato isn't sure how long it's been since their first kiss, maybe minutes, maybe hours, and he doesn't care either. A cloud of bliss hovers over him as he reaches out and rests his head on Peeta's chest. He glances up to see the other boy shutting his eyes, giving into the lure of sleep. Although the stings are much better his leg must be leaving him with excruciating pain. Cato sighs faintly but turns his head, his arm stretched out wide over Peeta's chest.

Moments pass until Peeta is snoring but Cato still waits an hour, plotting silently. It's only once the snoring ends, dying down to a gentle rumble that Cato stands up, separating himself from the other boy. He finds his bay to his feet, stepping silently to the mouth of the cave and pushing away the boulder. He reaches into the sheath at his ankle, grabbing his dagger and holding it tightly between his fingers as he glances back to the boy he loves.

Sleep makes Peeta's face vulnerable, making him seem much younger than he really is. His breath is slow and steady, and he doesn't move even though Cato is gone. The lines of pain that crease his face are now gone, smoothing the plane. He's more beautiful in sleep than Cato ever thought imaginable, and it takes all of his will power to keep from crawling against him once more.

With a final pang of guilt, Cato tightens his fingers around his dagger and steps out from the cave, into the dead of night.

And heads straight for the Cornucopia.

-x-x-x-x-

**AN: These chapters just keep getting longer :P**

**Anyway, I really wanted to get this up because I might not be able to post in a long time. Next month I'm participating in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) and will be writing a 50,000 word original story. Because I'll be focusing on that so much, I won't be writing for any of my fanfiction. I might get chapter 8 up before next month, but it's pretty unlikely.**

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this. I really did, even if it did take me a while**

**Oh, and for those who wanted to know what the name of the sequel will be it's 'The Chase'**


	8. Chapter 8

**nChapter 8**

_Previously on The Hunger:_

_Sleep makes Peeta's face vulnerable, making him seem much younger than he really is. His breath is slow and steady, and he doesn't move even though Cato is gone. The lines of pain that crease his face are now gone, smoothing the plane. He's more beautiful in sleep than Cato ever thought imaginable, and it takes all of his will power to keep from crawling against him once more._

_With a final pang of guilt, Cato tightens his fingers around his dagger and steps out from the cave, into the dead of night._

_And heads straight for the Cornucopia._

-x-x-x-x-

The only sound he hears is his breathing, even despite his quick pace. His legs stretch out beneath him, a familiar burn flittering up his thighs and calves. His heart thrums in his chest and he leaves himself counting its beats, trying to do anything _but _listen to the thoughts swirling around in his head. He refuses to acknowledge the look on Peeta's face when he begged him to stay. A wince ripples through Cato's body and he bites down hard on his tongue, drawing blood. He's doing this _for _Peeta, God damn it. He shouldn't feel guilty about doing him a favour.

He pushes his legs further, comforted by the accustomed sound of his footsteps pounding into the forest floor. Leaves and debris crunch under his sneakers. Running is easy; running is good; he's used to running. He did a lot of it as a part of his training to be a Career. Every morning he'd faithfully way up at 5 and go for an hour long run before another hour of training. Then he'd do more after school. Sure, it was testing both physically and mentally but it was all supposed to be worth it when he stood up on that podium, a Champion in front of all Panem. For the first time in years, the idea doesn't bring warmth to his chest. The idea of being a Champion doesn't excite him enough to get his blood rushing.

He doesn't want to win.

Cato shakes his head, blonde locks sticking to his sweaty forehead. He hears a bird's gentle trill in the canopy of the trees. His throat arches as he looks up into the trees. Instead of seeing the bird though, his eyes fall on the force field that shows them the fallen tributes. Intrigue wells inside him. How do they keep that up? What _is _it, really? Catching his lower lip between his teeth, he curves his jog in the direction of the force field.

It takes about twenty minutes at a steady jog to reach the edge of the force field. By now he can see the sun slowly rising on the horizon. His and Peeta's kisses must have lasted for hours. Either that or he waited longer by Peeta's sleeping side than he had expected to. His jog has so far lasted about an hour and a half. When was the last time he slept? A slow frown creeps onto his face when he realises it was well over 24 hours ago. Cato sighs, slowing his pace as the force field nears him still.

He wanders the edge, his eyes flitting from the roof of the field to the ground. Eventually he comes across a small, compact contraption. In a way it looked like that robot in the old _Star Wars _movies his dad made him watch, R2D2. It was cone like in shape, but with a domed top instead of a pointed one. It was made of all silver, the sun glinting off it and the glare hitting his eyes. Squinting he kneels beside the contraption to get a closer look and analyse what its use is. Blinking lights in a myriad of colours circle the base of the contraption, blinking rapidly. He reaches out to touch it but before he gets the chance his fingers start fizzing, the same feeling you get when static electricity makes the hairs on your arms and legs stand up on end.

His eyebrows crease together faintly and he slowly withdraws his hand, letting it fall limp to his side. Knowing that touch is no longer an option, he uses sight to define the use of the mechanism. More lights flitter up from the blinking bulbs, though these are more like holographic lines, curving into each other. He takes a step back from the device, needing a broader view. It takes him only a minute to find that there are a myriad of the apparatuses surrounding the arena in a curve. Interesting. Interesting still, he sees that the same lines of light dances from all of the others, meeting up in a faintly holographic spider web. The web enhances the more he steps back, until finally he sees it meeting in the centre of the sky. He's sure that if he stepped forward and attempted to press his fingers against the holographic projection his skin would tingle with electricity, much like before. From the centre of the roof, the force field rains down in a dome all around the arena.

What hardly any Tributes before have realised, Cato sees in just minutes. Not only that the force field is just one big projection, but exactly how it works and what makes it work. Cato doesn't quite understand how this could ever be of any importance to him, but he stores the piece of knowledge in the back of his head, just in case he may ever find use for it.

Gracefully, the tall boy twists on his ankles, flexing out his legs slightly before he begins jogging once more in the direction of the Cornucopia. Once more the memory of Peeta settles into the forefront of his mind, leaving his heart thudding dramatically and his lips slightly parched. Cato has never been one to feel guilt, and although now he values someone else's life over his own, he's still the same person he was before the Games. He still rues his moments of compassion, no matter how rare and short they are, and he loathes feeling guilt. But right now knowing that even after Peeta opened himself up to him, pleaded for him not to leave and then gifted him with the one thing he never thought he would have without force, he feels guilt.

Immeasurable, all-consuming guilt that threatens to swallow him whole and leave him without air, drowning in despair. He can't help but imagine Peeta's face if he were to awake and find that Cato wasn't beside him. Peeta is smart; he'd understand where Cato had gone instantly. Cato isn't sure what Peeta's specific reaction would be but he knew the boy would feel disappointment if ever the situation came to life.

Cato's fingers curl, twisting his hands into claws at his side. Fingers nails grip into the sensitive skin of his palms, biting hard enough to draw blood. The distraction is exactly what he needs. Sure, it isn't much pain but it's enough to side track his thoughts, focusing on the light buzzing at his palms. The guilt settles into a pool in his chest, leaving his breath shallow, calm radiating through him. Peeta would thank him for this eventually. Although the other boy doesn't see it yet, doesn't understand the necessity for this underneath the haze of his illness, Cato's certain that it's the best thing to do.

The rest of the forest blurs by him in a flash of green and brown. The scent of pine coats him, washing through his skin in such a way that makes him certain he'll never get the scent from his nostrils as long as he lives. Blood, fear and adrenaline swirl in the air, a dangerous mix but Cato's thankful for it. He's been with Peeta for too long, sheltered by the real world. In his world with Peeta there is light and beauty. He wants only for the boy he loves to find happiness in all that he does. His main aim is not to survive, but simply to exist, floating around the atmosphere an orb of energy. In the real world his aim is to hunt, to track and to kill. The taste of blood lies bitterly on the tip of his tongue the closer to get to the Cornucopia, the hunger rising in him once more. Cato isn't characteristically an overly addictive person, but with the right push the need to main envelops him one more, drowning him in craving.

Finally the meadow opens up before him like a flower unfurling. He's not too surprised to see the small group arguing; Clove, Glimmer and Marvel. So he was right then, that the girl from 4 and the boy from 3 were the only two to succumb to death by tracker jackers. Cato strains his ears, needing to hear what the trio are talking about.

Early morning light rains down on the trio as he watches; he's been awake all night.

"It's a trap." Clove spits, her eyes narrowing on her allies in bitterness.

"Obviously." Glimmer replies, tossing a lock of radiant hair over her shoulder and rolling her eyes. In that moment she reminds Cato of one of those cheerleaders on TV more than ever. "But we can still go up there, still kill them. What if it's Cato? This is exactly the kind of thing he'd try to do. It's a flag, signalling us to him. We just need to get closer and prove that we're more dangerous than he thinks." The blonde crosses her arms tightly over her chest, her eyes falling upon the boy at her side. "What do you think, Marvel?"

"I think we have to take this chance. Yeah it's a trap, but we need to take every chance we can get. The arena's a big place and numbers are starting to dwindle. If we don't act now then we might not get everyone."

The argument hangs between the trio. Clove, still with her arms crossed over her chest, tastes the words slowly allowing them to sink in. After a great deal of consideration a nod takes to her head, her eyes falling upon Glimmer.

"You and Marvel will go. We can't risk leaving the supplies here alone so I'll stay and keep others away. I'm still certain that this is a trap, and in that case this might be what they're after." At the end of her short statement, the other two begin picking up a myriad of weapons, slinging sword and daggers over their backs and hiding them into hidden sheaths. Cato notices abstractly that Glimmer lacks her silver bow. She must have left it at Katniss's tree after all, he decides silently.

Before another word is passed the two leave into the vegetation surrounding the meadow, disappearing.

Cato takes a sharp inhale of breath, crouching lower in the bush. Clove stays standing where she is, her face puckered into a frown, eyes narrowed, as she watches her companions leave. With arms crossed over her chest she begins to pace, eyes watchful on her surroundings. Even at her most anxious Clove will always remain receptive to her environment, always understand the danger and the risks around her. Clove and Cato shared a lot of their training back at District 2, finding it easier to train with each other than to hold on to the want to train alone. He knows her, he knows what she's thinking and he thinks he knows how she'll react when he steps out, into the clearing.

Clove takes an alarmingly long time to realise that Cato's there, watching her. His feet pepper the ground with gentle kisses as he walks, his eyes wary as he watches her pace. Back before Cato realised he was gay, he must have been fourteen at the time, him and Clove had a fling. She was different then; happier. She always wore the same, widespread smile that could light up a whole room. Her dark eyes were as smothering as they were beautiful, open to the world yet continuously boring into the eyes of the person she was speaking to, giving them her undivided attention.

It wasn't a classic romance; not by a long shot. They had been friends for years, their whole lives really, so this was just an extension of their friendship. Everything remained the same, apart from the way they held hands to and from training and of course the kissing. Cato was never very interested in the physical side of things, which really should have been Clove's first clue, but the girl thought she was in love. It was Clove who initiated their relationship, Clove who had held them together, relented whenever they had a fight. With a sharp pain Cato realises that he cares for Clove. Not in the same way he cares for Peeta, not at all, not even in the way he'd care for a sister, but in the way he'd care for an acquaintance he's particularly partial to.

Perhaps he should be glad that he pushed people away his entire life; that his relationship with Clove never went too far; that he never allowed himself the luxury of love. Love is giving someone the power to destroy you, Cato thinks detachedly. Not really focusing on his thoughts. If Clove had the power to destroy him she would, no matter _how _much she loved him.

Finally, Clove's eyes lock with his and they are all that's left in the world. Cato forgets the supplies for a moment. He forgets the fact that Marvel and Glimmer are coming back soon; he forgets the fact that he and Peeta aren't the only two people trying to distract the Careers; he even forgets Peeta. All he sees is Clove, but it's not Clove. It's the eight year old Clove he first made friends with, the girl with wide, trusting eyes. The first moment she had seen Cato she had begun grinning, cheerfully introducing herself without a moment of hesitation. Clove had been the first girl, really the first person, Cato had ever called his friend. They used to play pretend, the way only children do, imagining themselves to be gypsies, pirates, wizards and witches; whatever they wanted. They imagined themselves victors, their fingers linked as the world cheered their names. They had pretend weddings and named their children. They were going to have a dog, when they got married.

Looking in her eyes now, Cato sees a ghost of that girl. He sees the ghost of the girl he promised to marry when he was ten years old, who he told he loved forever. A sharp pang attacks his chest the longer he analyses her eyes, seeing things he had never noticed before. The way she watched him as if he could do no wrong, how even now, knowing he's most likely going to kill her, an impulsive half smile can't help but dance across her lips. He sees the pain shattering in her eyes, over and over again, the same way it did when he chose Peeta.

"Cato." She breathes, her voice heavy and thick with emotions that the Cato of a former life never would have recognised. It's Peeta, he realises. Peeta who's changed him, torn him apart. He's made him susceptible to emotions, who's made it easier for him to understand. Love changes you; you become whatever it wants you to be because you have no choice. Love forces you into a mould, making you into whatever the other person needs. Peeta needs someone who can see the fine details, someone who he won't have to spell things out to. Peeta needs someone sensitive, but who can protect him at the same time. It scares Cato that he's changed, terrifies him really, but he can't help but be glad.

It proves to him that this thing is real.

"Clove." Cato replies, his voice a mocking mimic of her own. He watches her wince, pain flashing ruefully through her eyes. A smile dances across Cato's lips, although he feels no joy. He feels himself slipping into familiar waters, into the Cato he knew at the beginning of the Games. Cato who would do anything to win, who knows he deserves to win.

"Let me guess," she murmurs, smiling with pain. "You're not here to spill Loverboy's secrets, are you? You're not here to join us." The dark-haired girl smiles. "You're here for _him._"

Unexpected pain ripples through Cato's chest as he watches her. He sees the tears welling in her eyes, the hard line of her jaw as she grits her teeth, refusing to let those tears fall. He realises just how fragile Clove is in that moment. She's just a little china doll, all wrapped up in bubble wrap, pretending like nothing can hurt her when really everything does.

"I'm here for him." He whispers, his voice seeming to ripple through the meadow.

"I won't kill you, you know."

"I know."

"You'll have to kill me."

"I know."

Silence.

"I love you."

He sighs.

"I know."

Silence.

Muteness takes up more space in the meadow that their words ever could. Cato feels his skin itch with claustrophobia as he works up the courage. He can see the tableau unfold in front of his eyes. He'll walk towards her and she won't make a move. The tears will begin to fall, crashing against the grass in huge drops. He'll take the dagger from his ankle and lift it to her chest.

She'll look him in the eye as he kills her, forgiving him. She'll understand; she'll understand that he did it for love, the same way she'd do anything for him.

Because Clove is in love with him; she's been in love with him since they were ten years old. Cato was too daft to realise it before, he thought it was a silly infatuation, a minor crush. But she's in love with him.

Which makes the moment he stabs her in the chest that much harder.

She doesn't take long to die, only five minutes or so. Her blood stains his skin, dripping into the ground beneath their feet, seeping deep into the mud. Her eyes refuse to shut. Cato stares into them, letting that be his punishment. He knows he'll never get that look out of his head; the look in her eyes as he killed her will always be burned into his eyelids, terrorising him while he tries to sleep. He'll never be able to go home, knowing her family will be there. He'll never forgive himself for killing Clove.

He lays her down to rest in the meadow, shutting her eyes gently with his fingers. He reaches down to kiss her face, her cheeks, her forehead, her nose. He leaves her feeling the gifts that he never could grant her in life, leaves her with all the love he can manage. But Clove will never be loved again, not by the living. Anyone who ever loved her will die with her, the piece that loved Clove being buried with along with the girl with the night. Cato will never love Clove.

Time passes. When Cato looks up the sky veined with fire. It's midday when he looks up, the sun blaring down on his unforgivingly, not caring that he's in mourning. His heart throbs with unexplained pain. Clove's blood is dried into his fingers and clothes and his cheeks are stained with tears he doesn't remember crying.

He stands up and stumbles to the supplies.

He learned the dance around the mines so well that he skips through it without thinking, a zombie. Is body is possessed by need, the real Cato cold and dead, curled up in a ball in some small recess of his mind. He murdered today. Every time he's killed before that it was for survival. The curly haired boy at the Cornucopia meant nothing to him, he was just another body in the way of his success.

Clove was a murder. He didn't do it for his own survival, her death wasn't necessary. In fact, her death was counterproductive in his survival. If he had chosen Clove he would have chosen life. She wouldn't have let anyone hurt him; she loved him too much. He could have sold Peeta out, watch as he was killed for survival's sake. Cato could win, he knew he could. He was the best player in the arena. He could control the Games, if that was what he wished.

But what Cato wished was to see Peeta become an old man. He wanted the boy he loved to live a long life, a life where he had children and grandchildren. He didn't want Peeta to forget him, forget all that he gave up for him, but he'd never ask Peeta to hurt over Cato's sacrifices. He longed for Peeta to see the morning sky unfurl like a blooming flower, to experience the taste of real air, not the synthesised stuff that the arena feeds them.

He wanted Peeta to experience life.

Cato isn't sure how he did it when he finds himself running from the meadow, backpacks filled with supplies on his back. He took weapons, food, clean water… Everything he thought might help. Cold bites into him, the kind of cold that attacks your bones, leaving you shivering from the inside. He wishes to rip off his skin, remove it like it were a dirty suit, one he could clean and hang up to dry. He feels so filthy, grimy with blood, dirt and hatred. Hatred for the games, hatred for himself, hatred for his parents. Loathing for these things burns bright like a fire in the pit of his stomach, mingling in with his love, battling each other. Only one will be victorious, but neither will set him free.

Behind him, the world explodes. He's run a good three miles before he hears the explosion, yet he still manages to feel the flames licking his back, heat flaring along his body. He skin shrives from the heat, longing for moisture. He twists instantly, his eyes not taking long to find the source of the bang.

Exactly where the meadow is, where he had been only twenty or so minutes earlier, fire dances, blurring his vision with the edges of a mirage. He hears the flames crackling and popping and he knows what's happened. Someone tried getting to the supplies; someone stood on one of the mines. Despite knowing that Peeta isn't stupid enough to wander out there, alone, and get himself blown to bits, instinctive fear prickles along his skin. He turns away and sprints for the cave, knowing if it is Peeta then there's nothing he can do.

He makes it to the cave quicker than he would have thought possible, ripping at the door-like boulder, rock digging deep into the skin of his fingers and shredding it. He doesn't feel the pain, overcome with adrenaline. In seconds the boulder is pushed away, leaving only the resting Peeta in Cato's line of vision.

Relief pours through him, washing over him like a bucket of ice water.

"Peeta!" He all but screams, not even stopping to pull the boulder back in front of the cave's mouth as he throws himself at the dozing boy. Peeta's eyes flutter awake, disorientation clear as day on his face. It's the most beautiful expression Cato's ever seen, an expression full of life and humanity.

Clove's eyes, still with death, flash before his eyelids, burning into him with a sting, though he pushes the memory away. It was worth it to kill Clove, if it saves Peeta. The death of that silly girl, no matter how much she may have loved him, is a worthy enough sacrifice.

"Cato?" Peeta whispers, disorientation colouring his voice. Unlike his voice, his skin is left pale beyond belief. If Cato had not seen it for himself he would not have believed it possible for someone to be so pale. Cato's eyes graze over Peeta's body instinctively, searching for signs of improvement. Although the lumps left from the tracker jacker stings have reduced immensely, the deep gash in his leg has produced puss and is quite obviously inflamed. Lines trace along his skin, webbing along his body in dark tracings; blood poisoning, obviously. The feeling of death creeps into Cato's heart freezing in a hard block. Peeta's not safe; not yet. An abundance of food, clean water, weapons… they'll all mean nothing if Peeta's injuries aren't healed soon.

"I'm right here." Cato whispers, curling his fingers around Peeta's cheek. His skin is as chalky to the touch as he appears, almost powdery as it kisses his fingertips.

"You-left." The boy gasps, his eyelids fluttering. Cato can see the longing in his eyes, the will to open them burning bright, yet suffocated by the sickness, threatening to take him with each gasp of air. Cato can see it clearly, the longing to let go, to allow death to take him in one final blow. However, he clings on, his fingers only just clawing on to life.

"I'm here now." He replies, his voice breathless as he does. He can't bring himself to feel guilt, to feel shame for lying. Although not a current priority, it was definitely necessary for him to get the supplies now, before they were destroyed. If he had waited too long he would have been denied the ability to gain such things. Even if he had managed to save Peeta from his disease before starvation took hold of him, the victory would have been short lived.

No, Cato will stand by his decision to leave Peeta for those few hours, no matter how soon he loses the boy.

"I'm here now." He sighs once more, leaning lower still to cradle the other blonde in his chest. Peeta is cool in his arms, his breathing painfully shallow. A plunge of fear twists in Cato's stomach, an agony that threatens to overwhelm him. Peeta won't last long, Cato knows it. He's a practical guy and refuses to delude himself to the idea that somehow he and Peeta will escape the arena together _alive._ If they had even be able to discover a way out of the arena together it would have been a miracle, might as well somehow being able to alive.

No, Cato was not stupid. Peeta was going to die and he was going to be alone.

He gave away everything for two days with Peeta. A terrifyingly long trek; one night, one beautifully, blissfully sweet night; a day spent in attempts to save a life and a few petrifyingly addictive kisses that drew him in with the calling of a siren. It was worth it, he realises. If given the choice to return to his Career pack, knowing how the future would fall apart, he'd still choose Peeta.

Love does strange things to people.

"It's over, Cato." Peeta's breath is raspy and harsh. The very sound of it wells tears in Cato's eyes. He swallows back the lump of coal growing in the back of his throat, reaching forward to brush a lock of hair over his ear.

"No. It's just the beginning." Cato replies, a sad smile resting on his lips. Peeta's eyes flutter open to look at his saviour and his lips match the smile.

"I'm glad, by the way." He sighs. "I don't care that I'm going to die. I'm just glad I got to see you like this… that you got a chance to show the world who you really are."

Silence envelops them tenderly, scratching through their barriers. All Cato's life he's held up a shield; a shield against his father, against his district, against the Games; and now it's gone. Peeta strips him of his shield, of his last defence against the world. Peeta leaves him naked and exposed, all that he is in the open for everybody to see. It both thrills and terrifies him.

Their lips find each other before they realise that they're searching. Their hands search, touching, caressing, as if endeavouring to memorise each other by touch. It's the only goodbye they can handle; words have become too much. Kisses are now whispers, touches tears; it is the only vocabulary they can manage.

Peeta's lips are soft. Cato's firm; Peeta's lips hot and frantic, Cato's cool and calm; Peeta saying goodbye and Cato saying I'll be with you soon. The kiss is chaste yet passionate, sweet despite the fear and agony just beneath the surface. Nothing has ever felt so vivid.

Neither of them notice the sound of shoes rubbing into the ground on the outside of the cave. Neither of them feel the weight of eyes watching them, analysing. It isn't until the watcher gasps, disbelief colouring the noise, that they draw apart from each other and look up.

Time passes in slow motion, hearts thudding. Her eyes are wide as she looks at the scene before her, a million memories flashing in front of her eyes. Peeta and Cato watch the emotions flash before her eyes, first incredulity, then horror, betrayal, disgust and finally hatred. Her hairs tumbles low in a mess of leaves and mud, but she remains uncaring of what they think, attempting to get over one obstacle at a time, firstly understanding the scene before her.

"P-Peeta?" She gasps, fingers crawling around her lips to bury a scream. Both boys wince unsure to know what to do, how to react to her reaction. Shock colours the room, thick in the air. Uncertainty pushes her to take a step back, her free hand twitching for some unknown object at her hip.

Katniss's eyes narrow, deciding on mistrust and disgust as her final emotions.

"What the _fuck_ is going on here?"

-x-x-x-x-

**AU: I gave up on NaNoWriMo. I got like, two and a half chapters in, only 7K words. Lawl. But I've also decided that I'm going to write the rest of **_**The Hunger **_**before posting any more. So by the time I post this the rest will be finished *clap clap clap***

**After this chapter is posted I'll post the last few once a week. I'm also not going to start posting **_**The Chase **_**until I've finished it. I much prefer planning and I'd feel better to just have it done.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_Previously on The Hunger:_

_Neither of them notice the sound of shoes rubbing into the ground on the outside of the cave. Neither of them feel the weight of eyes watching them, analysing. It isn't until the watcher gasps, disbelief colouring the noise, that they draw apart from each other and look up._

…

"_P-Peeta?" She gasps, fingers crawling around her lips to bury a scream. Both boys wince unsure to know what to do, how to react to her reaction. Shock colours the room, thick in the air. Uncertainty pushes her to take a step back, her free hand twitching for some unknown object at her hip._

_Katniss's eyes narrow, deciding on mistrust and disgust as her final emotions._

"_What the _fuck_ is going on here?"_

-x-x-x-x-

Silence envelops the cave, leaving the trio at a loss for words. Peeta is the first to speak, struggling to move from underneath Cato's body.

"Katniss," he gasps, his lips forming a perfect 'O' of surprise. "It-"

"Isn't what it looks like?" She finishes for him, a manic laugh taking over her. The sounds of her laughter shake through the cave, bouncing off the stone walls in a sick echo.

Peeta's expression contorts in pain, his eyes welling with tears. Despite his revelations about Katniss being more of a shield than anything else, it still hurts to see the look of utmost disgust and hatred clear on her face. What hurts more than anything is the appearance of pain underlying beneath the shown emotions, the sense of betrayal that she's obviously feeling.

"Is it Peeta? Is it _really _not what it looks like? Because it looks a Hell of a lot like he was _kissing _you… And it looked like you were enjoying it." Her expression contorts, a twisted mimic of Peeta's earlier appearance.

"I-" He gasps, unsure of how to answer the question. How _did _it look like? How was it? How did he feel about Cato and, more importantly, how did Cato feel about him? Katniss startled him from his delusions, brought him back to reality. It's the first time since their first kiss that he's been lucid; it's the first chance he's had to consider the entrails of the last few days. Is what he feels for Cato how he was supposed to feel about Katniss? Does he like boys the way he's supposed to like girls? In District 12 there's not enough time for considering such trivial things as sexuality and self-discovery, not with starvation and hypothermia being much more pressing concerns. Could he like boys?

He likes kissing Cato, he knows that. He likes how Cato is soft and hard at the same time, the way he smells, the taste of his lips. Yet not too long ago he thought he'd like those things about Katniss as well. Ever since the day that the tracker jackers attacked them the thought's been hiding in the back of his mind, swimming to the forefront of it occasionally but never staying there for long. Disorientation embraces him as he's forced to consider these things. He can't just tell Katniss that he doesn't know anything, that he doesn't know what he wants or how he could possibly want it. He can't tell Katniss that he wants Cato, _only _Cato, that he's not sure how he feels about her anymore, or how he'll ever feel about another girl ever again. All he knows is what he knows, which never feels like enough.

"You what, Peeta? You didn't think I'd care? You didn't even stop to _consider _how I'd feel when I found out you made me look like a fool in front of the entire world. I _believed _you. I _trusted _you. How could you… just, how, Peeta? And _why? _If it had to be anyone _why _him? He can't really care… you can't really care." Her dark eyes flitter between the two boys struggling desperately to understand. Peeta realises then just how quiet Cato is. His eyes fall to the other boy, watching for signs. If he expected to see a highly emotional disaster he's sorely disappointed. Cato wears a mask, showing no emotion at all. Even his eyes, usually so vivid, are blank and unreadable. His lips are set into a thin, tight line and Peeta can see his attempt at keeping away from him. The second they realised Katniss had seen them Cato had flitted away subtly, currently situated on the other side of the cave. The feeling of abandonment is heavy in his chest as he looks at the boy who, only seconds earlier, had seemed to fall apart at the idea of losing him.

"I thought I cared about you, Katniss. I honestly did. But seriously, before the Capitol, when did we ever even talk? I gave you bread once, big whoop. I thought you were beautiful or the longest time but now I seriously don't know what to think. This place, this whole experience, I'm not sure if it's changed me or if it's just opened up my eyes to what was always there but I'm not the same boy who started these Games. I'm not The Boy with The Bread any more. Don't pretend like you care either… _you never did. _Not once did you talk to me, not once did you thank me. You just stared at me like there was something wrong with me and let it be.

"I know how you feel about Gale; I'd be stupid not to. I knew you would never want me, I knew you'd never care. So what's making you care now?" He takes a deep breath, his pulse racing. Dizziness threatens to take over him, portends to drag him into the abyss of unconsciousness that he's found impossible to escape these past few days.

Katniss's eyes widen, her lips parting ever so slightly in surprise. "Because I _did _care, Peeta. That's why I never talked to you. You have friends, you have family. I don't see why you'd ever want me."

Peeta freezes, his skin coating with ice. Not because he still cares about her romantically, but because he's made yet another discovery. His feelings for Katniss were always a cover up, they were his way of shielding himself. He knew that no matter what feelings were between them neither of them would ever act on them. If Peeta was in love with Katniss he'd never have to settle down, he'd never be forced to find anyone else.

"It's too late, Katniss. I've changed. I'm not who I was when I stepped into the arena. Maybe it was always there, maybe _I _was always there, but all I know for now is that I'm not who you thought I was: I'm not who _I _thought I was. And I don't feel the same."

Tears dribble from Katniss' eyes, something Peeta never thought he'd see. His heart clenches with pain, he _hates _knowing that he's the reason for her tears.

"You don't care?" She spits, her eyes sharpening dangerously. Although the tears don't stop falling and the pain refuses to leave her face, her eyes are focused and deadly, an expression Peeta recognises. Katniss has her hunting face on. He notices the subtle changes in her body, the straightening of her posture, the tenseness of her body that wasn't there before. He notices her fingers curling around her hard bow and a rock forms in Peeta's throat. _What's she going to do?_

"That's fine." Her lips contort into a grotesque mimic of a smile. "You just took away my only reason to keep you alive."

The bow lifts in her fingers and Peeta realises she's already hooked an arrow into its crest. With his blood turning to ice Peeta shivers, what he believes will be his last act. Katniss' eyes lock with his as the arrow points square in his chest. _God is she fast, _is Peeta's last thought before the world explodes.

Peeta hears the _snap _as Katniss lets go of the bow. Peeta knows she won't miss, Katniss' aim is always perfect, but he never gets the chance to see the arrow pierce his skin. The world rocks as he's shoved to the side, the ground jumping up to meet him. Confusion wells inside Peeta; _the ground can't move? _Then he realises, it's not the ground moving, _he _is.

The ground smashes into him, his leg screaming with pain, but adrenaline has taken over and he ignores the feeling. He snaps his neck as fast as he can to see just what happened. The scene before him is worse than the idea of dying, it's worse than the knowledge that Katniss now hates him. Cato lies on the ground, his blood black as night already seeping into the cave floor. His eyes are closed and Peeta could almost trick himself into believing he were asleep, if not for the arrow protruding from his chest at a grotesque angle. The world goes still and Peeta sees black spotting his vision. Nothing matters anymore and nothing will ever matter again. He doesn't when notice when Katniss sprints from the cave, frustration plain on her face thanks to her mistake.

Peeta moves without thinking, digging his fingernails into the cave floor and dragging himself to Cato with sheer will. An eternity later he's beside the other blonde, kneeling in a pool of his blood. His body iss still screaming with pain, but he can't hear it over the pain of his heart.

_No, no, no, no, no, no… _The broken record plays in Peeta's head, a loop that will never end. _Cato isn't dead. Cato _can't _be dead._

The scene before him ells a different tale. The boy he's only just learned to care for, maybe even love, lies still at his knees, the loss of blood paling him out by the second.

"Cato?" A five-year-olds voice whispers, fear seeping into the name. Peeta wishes that kid would shut up and leave him to be alone with Cato until he realises that the voice belongs to him. Tears drip down his cheeks, merging with the blood and mud coating the floor. "Cato?" He squeaks again, a mouse this time. Although he's afraid to hear a response, he's terrified not to.

An impossibly long moment later Cato's eyelashes flutter, his chest rising weakly. Peeta chokes, his heart crushed in his chest and his windpipe pulverised in his throat. A soft whimper fills the cave though Peeta is not sure which of them it belongs to.

Icy pale eyes touch Peeta's. It appears that even Cato's eyes have been drained of life though he knows him well enough to see the fire and desire burning right below the surface.

"I'm dying." Cato murmurs, more like a faintly intrigued scholar than a boy on his deathbed. A soft chuckle tumbles from his mouth, blood bubbling and staining his lips as he does. "Aren't I?" He adds, the slightest amount of fear touching his eyes.

Peeta shakes his head, the tears falling freely now. "No." He whispers, leaning down and pressing his lips fiercely to Cato's forehead. "They can't take you from me. I only just found you."

The cave sighs, a sound that comes from neither Cato nor Peeta but a mixture of the two. "I'm going to die, Peeta." He states once more with complete certainty.

"It's not _fair."_

"Life isn't fair."

Silence envelops them and they welcome it. Though Peeta doesn't want to spend what looks like his last moments with Cato in silence, it is a comfortable feeling. If he shuts his eyes he might even be able to imagine he's not in the position he is, that his lover's blood isn't staining his clothes and his skin; that he's not about to say goodbye to the only person he's ever cried over.

"I wish it was."

Cato sighs. "Me too."

More silence.

"Does it hurt?" Peeta whimpers, his heart aching.

"No." Cato replies, though Peeta can see the lie clear in his eyes. "Lie with me." Peeta complies, cradling his body against the other boy's. He's careful not to jostle him and to risk causing him further pain. His skin is hot everywhere he feels Cato's touch, despite his skin being icy cold from lack of blood. He contorts his body so that he leans over Cato, his eyes opening as he looks down.

"I'm scared; don't leave me. I only just found you and already… I don't know how I'll be without you." Peeta whispers, his heart breaking. He wishes he could be as strong as Cato, that he could give the other boy reassurances. But he knows that won't work, he knows he's not as strong as Cato; that he can't lie in the same way.

"Don't be." Cato whispers, his voice softer than even before, weaker. "It doesn't matter what happens, it doesn't matter if I lose my body from this; I'm not leaving you. You're stuck with me, Peeta. Now and forever." A gentle smile presses to his lips and Peeta's heart breaks all over again. What will the world do without such a beautiful smile?

Moments pass between them in silence until finally Peeta speaks. "I think I love you. I was waiting until I was sure to say it, but you kind of fucked that up." He laughs, a strained sound as he attempts to joke. The tears have slowed now but still they embrace his cheeks. Cato's lips twist into an angelic smile and he appears the youngest and most painfully beautiful that Peeta has ever seen him. Cato's eyes flutter open.

"Kiss me." He whispers, desperation creeping into his voice. Peeta complies within milliseconds, unsure if he'd be able to physically withhold any sort of request from Cato while he dies. The kiss is bittersweet, the taste of tears and love on both of their lips as they pull away.

"Say it again." Cato asks.

"Cato," Peeta begins with a playful smile. He kisses him once more, the smile continuously pressed to his lips. "I love you."

"I love you too." Cato sighs, happy for the first time in years. He can't help but grimace though, the pain too much for him. Peeta's expression contorts.

"What can I do?"

"Just lie with me. Love me. Be you." Cato waits until Peeta lies down before he lets the tears fall from his eyes. He won't let Peeta see him cry; _he won't_.

Seconds pass, then minutes, then what feels like hours. Neither boy sleeps but they don't talk. They just lie there, waiting for Cato to bleed to death. Peeta wishes he was more competent, he wishes that his leg would support his weight; he wishes Cato hadn't jumped in the way, that their positions could be switched, that it could be him dying on their cave floor. But wishing is pointless, so instead he just lets the moment sweep him away.

The beeping starts gradually, almost unnoticeable by either boy. Cato's too deep in his mind to hear anything; it's Peeta who notices it first. Although he feels dead on the inside he can't help the slight tug of curiosity that pulls at his heart, tugging him to explore. At first he leans up, focusing his ears on the noise to make sure he isn't crazy. The beeping remains constant so he decides to stand. His legs shake beneath him, his injured leg threatening to fail him, yet still he stands. After a final glance at the boy, pale as the moon, beneath him he takes his first steps from the cave.

He doesn't have to walk for long to find the source of the beeping. At first he thinks it is a ball, something he saw to rarely back home in district 12, where recreational activities were strictly limited. It takes a few more steps to realise what it really is; _a gift._

His injury forgotten, Peeta sprints to the gift, falling to his knees. Pain lashes through his legs but he ignores it, hope gripping his chest. He rips apart the parachute, shoving it into his pocket. The sounds of the night are blocked out around him, his heart pounding the only noise he can hear as he cracks open the case.

A small tub falls into his fingers, no labels to tell him what it is. Twisting away the cap he smells the tell-tale scent of medicine. Suddenly Peeta can no longer breathe; he's forgotten. After a few seconds of marvelling at his luck, he grabs the case and the medicine and sprints back to the cave, not stopping until his boots splash in Cato's blood.

Cato isn't moving and for a moment fear overwhelms Peeta. Is it too late? Is Cato already gone? Shivers threaten to overwhelm him, the deepest fear that he'll never know the warmth that only Cato can bring him ever again. It takes the longest moment Peeta has ever known, but eventually he sees Cato's chest rise, his last attempts to cling to life.

"Cato!" Peeta cries, falling to his knees and unscrewing the cap of the medicine with desperation. His fingers tremble as he does, his heart thudding in his chest. He's sure that the cave is about to start pulsing with the beat of his heart it's that loud.

When the boy is unresponsive Peeta presses their lips together fiercely, surging all of his hope and love into the dying boy. Cato's eyes flutter open with surprise and disorientation.

"Peeta?" He whimpers. "What's going on?"

Peeta simply lifts the tub. "Medicine." He grins, hope filling the confined space of the cave. Cato's eyes are suspicious but he doesn't say anything.

Peeta ignores his lover's scepticism, instead turning to assess how best to go about applying the medication. His lower lip catches between his teeth and his eyes widen, taking in the arrow. _No, no, no… _The broken record is back and fear paralyses him. He knows what he has to do, there is only one choice possible… But will he be brave enough?

"Cato…" Peeta moans, his skin prickling with fear as he trembles. His eyes move from the protruding arrow to the eyes of the boy he loves. "Cato, I have to move the arrow." Peeta forces himself to keep his voice steady, to be as brave as possible, just as Cato would be brave for him. Cato nods faintly, his eyes fluttering shut. If Peeta doesn't start working quick he will lose Cato. He turns once more to the arrow, ice freezing in his stomach. _No, no, no, no, no…_

_There is no choice._

"I love you, Cato. Try to remember that, no matter how hard it hurts."

Peeta's fingers shake as he leans forward, his shaking members curling around the rod. Cato winces beneath him and nausea threatens to overwhelm him. He tugs slightly on the rod and blood bubbles to the mouth of the wound, dripping onto the cave floor.

Peeta's stomach churns and it takes all of his will power to avoid giving in to his nausea. He pulls against on the rod, this time a whimper dancing from Cato's lips.

_I can't do this._

_I have to do this._

Peeta grits his teeth together, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from his eyes. He doesn't need them blurring his vision, not now when it is so important he stays focus. Mustering all the will power he sees possible he tugs on the arrow with all his might.

Peeta had thought that once he had the will power to pull the arrow the rest would be easy. He always knew it would hurt Cato ten times worse than it had going in. What he hadn't counted for was the strength of the arrow. The torso is a thick thing and arrows aren't supposed to slice through them. To save Cato, Peeta will have to pull the arrow through muscles, veins, possibly even bones and organs. His stomach churns once again but he refuses to let go.

Even with all of his strength behind it the arrow only move millimetres at a time. It doesn't take long for Cato to start screaming, his eyes wide with pain and tears. The sound pierces through Peeta's eardrums, sickening him further. Tears dribble helplessly down his eyes, to his amazement. How much can one person even cry? But he refuses to let go. He doesn't have a choice this time, Cato _needs _this. It's his only chance.

So Peeta pulls harder.

He isn't sure how long it takes. It feels like infinity, tough he knows it could only last for a few minutes at most. Finally the arrow's only obstacle is the thick layer of skin on Cato's chest. Exhaustion overwhelms Peeta, his arms tireder than he would have thought possible. Cato's screams still pierce his ears, though at least now he's dug his fingers into the dirt of the cave's floor, attempting to stop himself from moving. Peeta is thankful for the effort; the last thing he wants to do is hurt Cato further.

With a final pull the arrow tugs free of Cato's body, a sick squelching sound that promises to haunt Peeta's nightmares filling the cave. A final squirt of blood gurgles from his chest and Peeta feels the bile burning his throat. He swallows hit down, though it sickens him, knowing right now is _not _the time to be getting sick.

The screams end, much to Peeta's delight, replaced by pants from his coarse throat. "Is it over?" He gasps, his voice barely a whisper. Tears wet his eyelashes and Peeta realises it's the first time he's ever seen him cry.

"It's over." He replies, leaning back to grab the tub of medication. His fingers curl into the cream which is a lime green colour and smooth on his fingers. He leans over Cato, his lower lip trembling with fear. What if this doesn't work? What if it's not what he thought it was? Did Peeta _really _do all that work for nothing?

How will he live without Cato, if he is wrong?

_No. _Peeta refuses to think like that. If he starts to think like that, if he starts to doubt himself, he'll never stop and that will be the end of it. No, Cato will live. Cato _has _to live.

His arm trembles ever so slightly as he lifts Cato's shirt with his free hand. His stomach drops as he sees the full extent of the wound. Not only is it deep, but Peeta's pretty certain it penetrated Cato's entire body. Fear almost paralyses him; nothing should be able to heal a person from _that. _Instead of letting the feat take him though, he just presses the cream against his blood-stained skin. Blood mingles with the cream, turning it an off-pink colour. Oh God, there's _so much blood. _Peeta can feel the ragged skin that the arrow ripped into tickling his fingertips. Nausea wells in his stomach once more but he pushes it down. _It's not the time._ Biting down on his tongue to keep himself from screaming, Peeta pokes the cream into the hole, his fingers quite literally in Cato. He pulls his hand back once he's handled all that he can, grimacing when the feeling of torn skin refuses to leave his memories. Glancing down he sees Cato's face contorted into a similar grimace.

"This is it." Peeta mumbles, barely realising that he's spoken aloud until Cato opens his eyes and looks at him. Peeta reaches out and takes the other boy's hand with his unbloodied one, squeezing reassuringly. He sends the vibe that he's certain the medicine will work, despite the icicles of fear prickling his entire body.

"Ow." Cato spits, wincing. Two pairs of eyes glance to the hole in Cato's chest, their fingers squeezing tighter in anticipation. Cato winces once more and Peeta can see why. Through the hole in his chest, muscles string together, forming like a spider web. Peeta's breath catches in his throat as the building speeds up. Veins twist into the combination, reforming the structure that once was. Finally a layer of skin forms over the internal organs, leaving the wound completely healed.

"Cato." Peeta gasps, drawing his eyes from the miracle in front of them to look at his lover's face. He feels his own stretching into a wide grin, his eyes shining with happiness. Cato's expression is simply stunned, full of awe and shock.

"Cato!" Peeta cries again, bursting out in impulsive laughter. Cato looks up, his lips stretching to mimic Peeta's grin.

"Yes, love?" He murmurs, his expression more full of life than Peeta's ever seen him.

"I told you you're not going to die."

"Yes, that you did."

And then they laugh. They laugh until they forget why they're laughing; they laugh until their stomachs hurt; they laugh until they believe that everything will be okay. They laugh until the laughter dies down and they're left in silence, silly smiles on their faces.

"Cato." Peeta begins, his voice thoughtful.

"Yes, Peeta?"

"No matter what happens to end these Games, I'm not leaving this arena without you."

Cato is silent, thinking this over.

"I never planned to leave without you."

Peeta leans down and presses his lips against his lover's. Their fingers loop together, showing the way they'll stick together no matter what.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_Previously on The Hunger:_

"_Cato." Peeta begins, his voice thoughtful._

"_Yes, Peeta?"_

"_No matter what happens to end these Games, I'm not leaving this arena without you."_

_Cato is silent, thinking this over._

"_I never planned to leave without you."_

_Peeta leans down and presses his lips against his lover's. Their fingers loop together, showing the way they'll stick together no matter what._

-x-x-x-x-

At some point in the night they fell asleep in each other's arms, Peeta draped over Cato's body carelessly, his lips pressed into a continuous expression of happiness. They're both safe, they're both alive, they're both healthy. Peeta's dreams are happy; he dreams out getting out of the arena with Cato, of their life together. He refuses to believe that maybe things won't be the same when they get out, that maybe Cato won't want him. He is Cato's and Cato is his, nothing else seems plausible. Even the idea of being without each other, after just a few days, is perplexing. Peeta nuzzles his nose into the base of Cato's collar bone, refusing to believe that one, or both, of them most likely won't make it out of this place; it will be their tomb. Even if only one stays though, the other will die with him, their spirit forever being locked in the arena.

Peeta isn't sure how he knows that it's day light outside, it's not like there's any light coming through the cave, he just does. An internal clock, maybe. He inhales deeply, twisting his head to look up to the boy beneath him. Dried tears make his face feel crusty and filthy. It's such a small thing, yet it shows how much he's changed as a person in such a short time. The Peeta before the Games was neat, tidy; nearly obsessively clean. This Peeta is a stranger to him; a Peeta with dried blood and tears twisted into his skin and hair; a Peeta who kisses boys and stands up to Katniss; a Peeta who is a survivor.

There's something painfully innocent about Cato's face when he sleeps. Even in their most intimate moments so far Peeta has never seen him nearly this peaceful. The angry lines twisted into his jaw and forehead soften and flatten out while he sleeps, his expression slackening and his body relaxing. He appears younger, his lips parting ever so slightly. Warmth tugs at Peeta's chest, like a balloon inflating silently. It's an uncomfortable feeling, it robs him of his breath, though it's not completely unwelcomed.

Peeta sits up slowly, making distance between himself and his lover purposefully. His breath comes in jagged puffs, confusion and distortion inking the edges of his mind. What is he _doing?_ He doesn't even know this boy; he has no reason to be so obsessed with him. Peeta knows that he's a sweetheart, he knows that he's romantic and caring; he knows that he falls hard and fast. Usually though that only happens when he's known the person his entire life and has only just started seeing them in a different light. No, this time he's never even had any more than one real conversation with Cato. His emotions are completely unrealistic and _wrong._

So why do they feel so right? Why does it feel so completely _right _when he kisses Cato? Why is he completely unafraid to fall asleep in the other boy's arms, even knowing that those hands are completely capable of murder? Cato isn't his type and he's certain he's not Cato's, then why does it feel like he's been waiting for the moment to arrive each time Cato's skin touches his?

Peeta doesn't want to leave the arena without Cato, though how realistic is it that Cato will still want him once they're out, if they can even find a way out? How realistic that Peeta will still want _him? _The arena has changed Peeta, maybe once he's out he'll change back.

Peeta's heart pounds in his chest, questions with no answers swirling in his mind, assaulting him from every angle, tugging him in every direction. It's completely illogical that they're here together, especially for Peeta. He's not sure about the other boy, but Peeta's never been in a true relationship before. Flings, sure; everyone has those, even back home in District 12. He's kissed girls before, even gone on dates before, though never anything that he'd count a relationship. So why is he jumping into this one with Cato? It can't just be his emotions. As hard as Peeta falls for people he's still neat; he still likes to make sure that he has things in order, that every aspect of his life is orderly and logical. Cato, as amazing as he might be, is most definitely _no _logical, nor orderly. In fact, Cato is the messiest thing to ever be in his life. Perhaps it's the idea that he could die at any moment that throws him into Cato; the idea that this is his last chance at love that makes him fall so hard.

Peeta drags in a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning his back against one of the cave's walls. He lets his eyes flutter open to watch Cato sleeping. The reflection of the cave walls against each other illuminates the cave slightly, making the boy in front of him glow ever so slightly. Since Peeta moved he has stirred slowly, twisting to hug his own body. His fingers grasp the air where Peeta left space, lines of annoyance creasing his child-like face as he searches for his lost lover. A faint smile crosses Peeta's lips. Maybe it's not such a bad thing that he's taken advantage of the situation; that he's given love one last shot before his imminent death.

_Bang. _A grossly familiar explosion cracks outside of the cave, the sound of the cannons firing, signalling the death of yet another tribute. Mild curiosity rises in Peeta, though it's obvious Cato's reaction is very different.

A whimper tumbles from the taller blonde's lips as he wakes up slowly, his fingers grasping for Peeta. The baker's son sees the exact moment that Cato's search turns from innocent and curious to frantic and terrified. His eyes blink open instantly, fear in them unlike Peeta has ever seen in another. Peeta arches his eyebrow slightly, curious and confused by his lover's reaction.

"Peeta!" The boy gasps, nearly a scream. He looks around frantically, his body twisting into a distorted position to find his lost lover. In his sleep-tinged haze he misses the boy sitting right in front of him, not moving at all.

"I'm right here, Cato." Peeta murmurs, his voice nearly too quiet for Cato to hear initially. After a few more seconds of frantic search realisation settles in and his heavily-muscled body relaxes, his eyes falling upon the boy across the cave. He stands up, moving slower than earlier yet still more frantic than characteristic. He wanders towards the other boy, crouching on his knees in front of him and gently pressing the palms on his hands to his shoulders. He spends a moment searching for any signs of injury, other than the already ragged gash in his thigh.

"You scared me." He whispers, his eyes finally finding the sanctuary of the other boy's. "I heard the cannon and you were… you were _gone."_ He chokes on his words, a crease of pain growing beneath his eyebrows. "I thought it was you; that you had done something stupid."

A gasp catches in Peeta's throat, his eyes widening as understanding takes him. Cato had thought he was dead; he thought he'd left him. A flash of emotion twists inside Peeta's gut, making him feel cold and warm at the same time. He's touched that Cato was so scared.

"I'm right here." He whispers, leaning forward slightly to press their lips together in a chaste kiss, no longer than strictly necessary to reassure the other boy.

"I can see that." He smiles faintly. A moment of amusement rushes between them before Cato sits down, putting a slight amount of distance between them.

"You should use some of that medication on your leg." Cato states, curiously lifting his shirt to see how much of a scar he still has. Along with the thick planes of muscle there's a faint pink line, shrunken even from the night before. It's more of a slit now, as if Cato partook in minor surgery.

Peeta pouts, thinking over these words. "It's yours though; I don't want to waste it when it was probably a gift from your sponsor." His lips twist into a firm line hoping that Cato hasn't realised that they really don't _know _where it came from.

Cato shakes his head. "Don't be a fucking idiot, Peeta. I'm healed, that shit isn't going to help me anymore. And as for you, how the fuck are you supposed to help us get out of here if you can hardly walk?"

Peeta's eyes narrow on the stern-faced boy in front of him. The following silence lasts two minutes before Peeta exhales deeply, relenting. He can't deny that Cato has a good point. Almost unwillingly he reaches out and takes the jar of cream, his fingers licking into the product and rubbing it into his injury before he can chicken out. He winces despite himself; although the medicine is instantly soothing the feeling of pressure on his injury still hurts.

"Good boy." Cato whispers, leaning closer for another kiss, less chaste than their earlier, yet still not much more than a press of the lips. Neither boy is sure that they'll ever grow accustomed to the feeling of kissing the other.

The pull apart after a leisurely amount of time. Cato's lips twist into a wicked grin, his eyes flashing with excitement. Peeta's blond eyebrow rises, cocking to one side.

"What's so exciting, love?" He murmurs, their faces kept close.

"I was just thinking," the other boy begins, his fingers stroking through Peeta's hair with a playful smile. "We could really get out of here. Before now it was really all an unrealistic dream; now we're in with a chance. A canon just went off, right? Let's think of how many people are left. Eleven Tributes died on the first day, most in the blood bath. We killed the girl from 8 on the second day, the one who started the fire. The boy from 3 and the girl from 4 died when _The Girl on Fire _dropped those tracker jackers on them." He sneers, distaste obvious in his expression. Peeta can't help but smile, amused by Cato's obvious hatred for his previous infatuation. "Someone died a couple days later, I'm pretty sure it was the boy from 10. That day that I went back for supplies I killed Clove. I also heard another canon fire; I'm not sure who it was but there was a lot of smoke in the mountains and I'm pretty sure it had something to do with that. Then there was the explosion this morning."

Cato pauses, calculating how many are left. "Seventeen dead. There's only seven left."

Blood rushes into Peeta's ears, the sound of it flowing filling his head and making it impossible to hear anything else, other than that voice in his head; _seven _it whispers. "There's only five left to kill." He thinks aloud, unaware that he's speaking. "I wonder if one of those is Katniss."

His lover arches an eyebrow. "We saw her just yesterday… She _shot _me. We both know she's alive and kicking, Peeta."

Peeta shakes his head. "There was a canon this morning, in case you forgot. Maybe it was her. Oh _God _do I hope it was her." Rage floods Peeta like he's never known. His mouth taste like sweetened metal, bittersweet and cold. Without even acknowledging it his hands begin shaking, fury charging him. His body feels as if his blood has been replaced with rocket fuel. He sees red; only red.

He doesn't notice the worried crease forming between Cato's eyebrows; he doesn't notice the expression of pain crossing over his features as he sees the boy he fell in love with this way. Peeta is sweet and kind, he loves people and he does anything to save them. Seeing him like this, so full of wrath, it pains him.

"You can't mean that."

"She shot you, Cato. My only regret if she died would be that I wasn't there to see her choking on her own blood."

Silence envelops them, though the feeling of rage and concern crackles between them as if it's alive. Detesting the feelings stirring in his angelic lover, though knowing that nothing he says will stop him from feeling it, Cato leans forwards and presses their lips together, hard. Peeta is stunned and pulls away, arching a suspicious eyebrow.

"What was that for?"

"Just shut up and kiss me." Cato responds, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Peeta's shoulders, tugging him close to himself whether the other boy is willing or not. Peeta stays rigged for a few moments, his rage separating him from what he wishes he could accept, before the temptation becomes too much and he falls into the arms of his lover.

Each kiss reminds them of their first, full of fire and passion and warmth. Peeta feels his skin setting on fire everywhere Cato's 'kin touches, everywhere that lacks contact feeling frozen in comparison. He feels his heart pounding in his chest and he's almost certain that Cato can hear it, it's that loud. Their kisses are fierce and hard, the kisses of survivors.

Their kisses start slow but are full of heat, their lips quickly numbing from the pressure though neither boy cares. Their hands crawl over each other, exploring. Peeta's arms loop around Cato's neck, dragging him closer; Cato's fingers stroke along Peeta's back. Suddenly no closeness is close enough. With trembling hands Peeta finds the hem of the other's boys shirt, curling his fingers around it. The tips of his fingers incidentally graze against Cato's flat stomach, just above the waistband of his loose pants, eliciting a sharp gasp from Cato's throat. Peeta shivers at the sound, his grip tightening on the shirt as he begins to lift. Their kiss breaks just long enough for the shirt to be tugged over Cato's head and discarded. Their lips crush back together with more force this time, the hunger sparking between them like a firework.

Hungry fingers curl along Cato's sculpted chest, searching for what, Peeta is not sure. He follows instinct, does what feels right. His fingertips barely tickle the hard skin along his chest provoking low moans to vibrate from Cato's throat. Peeta trembles, the muscles in his abdomen contracting with the sound. His fingers curl around Cato's upper chest, his entire body shivering.

Moans shared between them, Cato finds the hem of Peeta's shirt and tugs it off, twice as demandingly as Peeta. It reminds Peeta of how experienced his lover is in comparison to him. The reminder of his lover's experience sparks something inside of Peeta, igniting his organs on fire. He longs to prove himself, to not let Cato's capability intimidate him. He breaks away from the kiss, his eyes glowing fiercely blue. In response Cato arches a blonde eyebrow, his eyes showing confusion and excitement merged together.

"Lie down." Peeta barks, his breathing harsh. Does he have any idea what he's doing? No. Has he ever done anything similar? No. But in order to prove himself to Cato he's willing to try.

Lust explodes in Cato's eyes as he follows Peeta's instruction, rolling his body backwards to lie on his back. His bare chest rises and falls rapidly, his breathing coarse and strained as his arousal steadily grows.

Peeta presses his lips together into a tight line, attempting to keep him expression calm. He doesn't want Cato to see just how terrified he is. Though at the same time he feels warm and powerful and strong, he feels in control and he knows that he wants this.

Painfully slowly Peeta rolls his body forwards, pressing his hands to the ground beside Cato's head. He stretches his own body of the lying boy's, hovering just millimetres over the anxious body. A flickered smirk plays on his lips as he feels Cato's arousal pressing against him, his own groin twitching in reaction.

Peeta reunites their kiss with force, nipping on Cato's lower lip with playful, teasing teeth. Louder moans roll from Cato's throat and his hips buck upwards to convey his desire. Peeta curls his knees up, straddling himself over Cato's hips and bucking his own hips back, eliciting a strange noise from the boy beneath him, like a hybrid between a groan and a gasp. Peeta darts his tongue out, licking his lover's lips before moving on to kiss his neck. He does what feels right, nipping the sensitive skin there, licking it or just pressing his lips against it. While his mouth is busy his fingers are doing work of their own, sliding against the waistband of Cato's elastic pants.

He pauses for a moment, considering exactly what it is he's doing. Once he takes this step with Cato there's no going back; it's the true acknowledgment that there's something between them, something that could change them both forever. Peeta has never done anything more than kiss a girl; this is a lot more than kissing. Fear mingles into his stomach, merging with the feeling of lust and anticipation. His tongue flutters against Cato's lower lip to keep from discouraging him as he has his internal battle. The moan drawn from his lover's lips is enough to make the decision for him.

He bites down, catching his lover's lip between his teeth and his hand plunges into the pair of pants beneath him. He feels Cato's gasp beneath him, not hearing it over the thumping of his own heart in his ears. _This is it _a gentle voice coos into his ear. _The point of no return. _Peeta inhales deeply as he searches for the thing that promises him satisfaction, his fingers curling around it within seconds.

A grunt is shared between them as Peeta's hand glides against Cato's sensitive skin, a low growl growing in the taller boy's throat. Fingers twitching with nerves, Peeta curls around Cato's length, stroking shakily. Their kisses become animalistic, Cato's teeth grazing against every inch of skin they can find. His fingers curl out into Peeta's hair, tugging it hard every time Peeta does something exceptionally right. The tugging rolls over Peeta in waves of pleasure, hardening him further with every tug.

Peeta suddenly wants _more. _No amount of Cato will ever be enough. With hands no longer shaking from nerves but from anticipation, he shoves Cato's pants and boxers down to his knees. The boy beneath him gasps as the cold of the cave tackles him, battling against the heat of his lover. Peeta lets go of the kiss, causing a whine of annoyance to curl from the taller boy and lets go of his length. Cato is about to verbally complain though Peeta doesn't keep him waiting for long. In seconds Peeta's lips are pressed to Cato's tip, teasing.

Cato's gasp at that is honestly the most erotic sound Peeta has ever heard. His own body growls in response, flicking out a tongue to stroke the very tip of his length. Cato's fingers rip into Peeta's hair, emitting a pleasured whimper from the boy above him. Peeta widens his lips ever so slightly allowing the member to enter his moist mouth. Cato's head arches back, slamming so hard into the cave floor that Peeta is momentarily concerned that he's injured. That is, until her hears the sound from his lips.

"_More!" _ It's really more of a cry, as far as volume goes but in desire it's more of an outright scream. Peeta quivers, the sound nearly too much for him to bear. He strokes his tongue out, luring the length further into his mouth. It is compliant, entering without any complaints. He exhales loudly, his breath hot against Cato's wet member, drawing a deep shudder from the boy beneath him. He draws it in further until his lips reach its base. He feels Cato's length pressed against the back of his throat and whimpers with pleasure, the vibrations apparently pleasant as it causes a sob of desire from the taller of the two boys as well.

Peeta experiments, stroking Cato's length with his own tongue, licking against the shaft. He grazes his teeth ever so slightly against the sensitive skin, grinning wickedly at the reactions of that. He takes Cato deeper, plunging into an abyss that neither boy ever wants to leave. He mimics swallowing with his throat, the muscles of his neck contracting against the stiff flesh inside him.

Once he feels that Cato can take no more he flutters his eyes open, arching his head to look up at the boy beneath him. Cato's body is burled into an upwards position, his eyes locking with Peeta's. Cato's eyes are darkened with lust, his hair sticking out in odd directions, mimicking some sort of crazy scientist. Unsure of how in God's name he does it, Cato pulls off the look. On him crazy scientist hair looks crazy attractive, more like a sex-drunk model than anything else. Peeta shudders at the look in his lovers eye feeling the other boy tremble beneath him.

"Peeta." He cries, nearly silently as they finish together. Salt and rain explode into Peeta's mouth, the taste of Cato. It drowns him in ecstasy with each swallow he takes, moans vibrating from his throat. His own length blasts beneath him, squirting thick liquid through his boxers and up on his stomach.

They ride it out together, eyes rolling back into their heads and jaws slackening as they are attacked by racks of pleasure. The feeling lasts only a few short moments, but it's not something Peeta will soon forget.

As Cato slackens against his exhausted tongue, Peeta pulls away, gasping with shock and awe. His heart thuds hard in his chest, pounding in his ears loud enough for him to be amazed Cato can't hear it. He lets Cato's length fall from his lips, sitting up. His legs stay straddled over Cato's thin hips beneath him and he glances down, their eyes locking.

The air between them feels charged with electricity and adrenaline; they could do anything in this moment.

They are infinite.

"Peeta." Cato coos, his expression slackening into innocence, mimicking his facials while he sleep. Peeta arches an eyebrow in question. Cato's fingers crawls against the cave floor beside him, gesturing for Peeta to lie beside him. Smiling softly, Peeta pulls himself off of his lover's hips, crawling into a ball beside him.

Peeta's head rests against Cato's shoulder, wrapped around him, given a perfect view of the angelic boy beside him. Most people would never appreciate Cato's beauty, not in the way Peeta does. Most people will never see past the harshness of his actions, of the ferocity of his glare. Most people will never give him a chance to prove what a perfect, unbelievably _good _human being he can be. Peeta has a slight sneaking suspicion that it's just being around the shorter boy that brings out the overwhelming _goodness _of him, though he doesn't mind too much. In fact, he likes it. He likes the idea that there's a part of Cato for him and only him, a whole new person that nobody else will ever see.

Right now Cato's face, the face that Peeta has become so familiar with recently, is set into a look of faint concentration, obviously considering something deeply. A small part of Peeta wishes to ask him what's on his mind, the other part much too content just watching him think. Absently Cato presses his hand against Peeta's shoulder, his thumb rolling assuring circles into the skin there. Peeta shuts his eyes, nuzzling closer to Cato as he lets himself live in the moment.

It is quiet for a long time, though it's a comfortable feeling. Peeta is pretty certain they should get up and clean up, maybe eat something but he stays exactly where he is, letting the day die away.

"I've been thinking," Cato drawls, breaking the silence. Startled, Peeta blinks his eyes, glancing upwards to see Cato's face as he speaks.

"That can't be a good thing." Peeta jokes playfully, not something he's familiar with. Cato half grins, the expression sending Peeta's heart in a flutter of nerves.

"That we really need to get out of here." Peeta frowns.

"I'm pretty comfortable where I am."

"I don't mean this cave; I mean the _arena. _Think about it, Peeta, they're never going to let us out of here together, not matter what happens. We have to get out ourselves."

Peeta's eyebrows furrow slightly as the thinks it over, his lips twisting into a thoughtful pout.

"But there's no way out. Cato, this place was built to be our tomb or to make us 'heroes'." Cato shakes his head.

"As I said, I've been thinking." He grins wickedly. "I do that sometimes, you know.

"Anyway, I have a plan I don't know if it'll actually _work _or not, but it's the best thing we've got."

Peeta arches an eyebrow, intrigued. Cato glances down at him, grinning wildly. It reminds him of the first Cato he met; the shark of a guy who wouldn't let anything get in his way; the Cato with the sharp lines and an animalistic nature.

"Get cleaned up; we're going into the arena."

-x-x-x-x-

**AN: I hate it when authors leave ANs so I promise this will be short.**

**Firstly this is the first ever smut scene I've actually written and I hope it doesn't absolutely suck lemons (hehe, see what I did there?)**

**Secondly I changed some things around and now there will only be 11 chapters, so there's only one after this. I also might post a teaser to **_**The Chase, **_**I'm not sure.**

**Thirdly I'm sorry that this whole story has been so short. When I first envisioned **_**The Hunger **_**it was completely different. It was supposed to be about Cato chasing Peeta down, animosity, hunger, desire; it was supposed to be about acting on human desire. I never really planned to have any opportunity for a sequel, how I originally imagined it Cato would be dead by the end of **_**The Hunger. **_**But with all of the changes that I made a sequel was really necessary. In all honesty **_**The Hunger **_**is more of a prequel to **_**The Chase. **_**I'm not sure when I'll get around to actually writing **_**The Chase**_** (it could be weeks, it could be months, it could even be years) but I promise I'll get to it.**

**Anyway, if you've stuck with the boys this long I hope that you'll stay around to read the final chapter. I love you all, I really do.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_Previously on The Hunger:_

"_I've been thinking," Cato drawls, breaking the silence. Startled, Peeta blinks his eyes, glancing upwards to see Cato's face as he speaks._

"_That can't be a good thing." Peeta jokes playfully, not something he's familiar with. Cato half grins, the expression sending Peeta's heart in a flutter of nerves._

"_That we really need to get out of here." Peeta frowns._

"_I'm pretty comfortable where I am."_

"_I don't mean this cave; I mean the arena. Think about it, Peeta, they're never going to let us out of here together, not matter what happens. We have to get out ourselves."_

_Peeta's eyebrows furrow slightly as the thinks it over, his lips twisting into a thoughtful pout._

"_But there's no way out. Cato, this place was built to be our tomb or to make us 'heroes'." Cato shakes his head._

"_As I said, I've been thinking." He grins wickedly. "I do that sometimes, you know._

"_Anyway, I have a plan I don't know if it'll actually work or not, but it's the best thing we've got."_

_Peeta arches an eyebrow, intrigued. Cato glances down at him, grinning wildly. It reminds him of the first Cato he met; the shark of a guy who wouldn't let anything get in his way; the Cato with the sharp lines and an animalistic nature._

"_Get cleaned up; we're going into the arena."_

-x-x-x-x-

An hour later and the boys have washed themselves off in the stream by their cave, packed as much food, water and weaponry as possible and have left their cave for what they hope will be the last time.

Cato's skin feels cold, nerves whizzing through him like shots of adrenaline. His pulse is quicker than usual but steady. He makes sure to appear as calm as possible, though fierce. He wouldn't want Peeta to be concerned that Cato isn't as competent as he initially appears. Sure, it's true, but he still doesn't want his lover to think that.

He can't shake the feeling that his plan isn't going to work, that it's all going to explode in his face. He can't rid himself of the feeling he isn't good enough and it's going to drive him crazy. Cato's one of those guys who are always in control, who always knows what's about to happen next because they're the one making it happen. The idea that he's about to try something that he has no idea about is terrifying. It really is just a stab in the dark right now. The idea came to him in a startling flash, just crazy enough to work. Maybe.

Really Cato just knew he had to do _something. _He's not the type of person who lets other people come to his rescue; he's not the type of guy to just sit back and let the chips fall where they may. No he's stronger than that; independent.

Glancing over to Peeta beside him, his face masked with complete trust for the taller boy, Cato isn't so sure that he made the right decision. Peeta's trust comes at the price of immense pressure. He feels his heart thumping louder with each step closer to their destination that they get. He's terrified of disappointing his lover, or even worse, getting them both killed. Cato isn't sure how he'd deal with that guilt. Though he'd be dead, so he wouldn't really be expected to.

He shakes his head and glances away from Peeta. Seeing his utmost confidence just makes him feel that much more nervous in himself. Instead he watches the forest that passes by them at an alarming rate. They're simply walking but since Cato is dreading their destination it feels as if the time is passing much quicker than it should be. This could be the last time he's ever with Peeta, so close to the first time that it hurts. The idea that the world have him his first love just to have it ripped away from him a mere week later breaks his heart.

"Cato," Peeta murmurs, his voice gentle along with the serene atmosphere. "Where exactly are we going?" Cato had refused to verbalise his plan, unsure if there were cameras in their little cave. The idea that there could be disgusts him, considering just what happened there that morning, though he knows that the chance is quite high. Goosebumps prickle along his skin at the idea of Capitol residents seeing their first moment of passion. Actually, the people of the Capitol have witnessed their entire relationship. Possibly all of Panem has as well. Cato feels faintly nauseated at the idea that he hadn't considered yet though he doesn't voice his concerns with his lover; Peeta wouldn't take it well knowing his family, friends and everybody he's ever known has seen him in such a way.

"You'll see, babe. Trust me." Cato flashes a quick grin to the shorter boy beside him, his heart soaring when he catches Peeta's gasp at the expression. Cato's always known he's attractive; he's not an idiot. It's something he always sued to his advantage, tricking girls into loving him just to keep up a bad ass appearance. Cato was known as somewhat a heartbreaker back home, namely because he could never manage to feel anything for the girls who would do anything he'd say without question. Clove was the only girl he had ever cared about, even a little bit, and in the end that hadn't been enough. But he had never considered how he could seem to Peeta.

Peeta is beautiful in the unconventional sense, he's not sure how many people would see him the way he does. Initially he appears to be quite average despite his blonde hair and blue eyes. Average height, average weight, average features. But the longer Cato fixated over him the more beautiful the boy became. Quickly his average hair turned into strings of gold that would shimmer in the sunlight almost like it were a living thing; his eyes turned into endless lakes, the kind that one would long to spend all day swimming in; his average height turned into the perfect height to rest his chin against his head and just pull him into his arms. He began to notice thick bands of muscle along his chest and arms, the product of his work in the bakery. Cato began to see Peeta in a different way than he had ever seen anybody before. In his mind he knew that the boy was nothing more than average but in his heart he knew that appearances meant nothing.

So it might be vain that Cato enjoys knowing Peeta finds him attractive but damn does it make him feel accomplished. He knows that he's attractive only in the physical sense, that his heart is as ugly as they come. He has no idea why someone as caring and beautiful as Peeta could find such an ugly heart beautiful but he'll take whatever he can get. He guesses that around Peeta he _is _different. Peeta doesn't know who he really is; the trained killer from District 2. Or maybe he does and it is Cato who doesn't know himself.

Cato looks away from the beautiful boy beside him after realising that he's been staring. He looks to the forest instead, realising that they're only a minute or two away from their final destination. His palms grow sweaty and his breath picks up but he makes sure to not show physical nervousness; he can't let Peeta see just how unsure he is.

Suddenly he sees it; the first projector. He inhales deeply, stopping in his steps. Peeta continues walking for a couple of seconds before he realises that Cato has stopped. He slowly turns to glance at the taller blonde, arching a perfect eyebrow. Cato nods shallowly letting him know this is the place.

It's make it or break it time.

Cato reaches down to his ankle, tugging the small, sheathed dagger from his right shoe. He stands straight, rolling his shoulders back as he prepares to attempt their break out. Then he hears a disgustingly familiar voice.

"Oh baby," The voice cackles and Cato can practically see her smirking, though she's behind him. Slowly he turns around, instinctively gravitating closer to Peeta as he does so. Glimmer looks back at him, her sculpted eyebrows rising high as she takes in his appearance. "What on _earth _do you think you're doing?"

Fear nearly paralyses Cato. Not for himself of course but for Peeta. Cato isn't afraid of Glimmer. Sure he knows that she'll hurt him if she gets the chance but he's no longer concerned about his own wellbeing. He doesn't matter anymore; it's all about Peeta.

"I was under the impression I was getting the hell away from _you._" He spits back, his upper lip quipping into the image of a snarl. Glimmer simply grins in response, taking a slow step closer to him.

"Oh darling, why _ever _would you want to do that?" Her eyebrows arch playfully.

"Oh I don't know, maybe because you're a _bitch._" He retorts, arching his eyebrow as he mocks her. Her eyes narrow on him and he feels his lips twisting into a glad smirk. He sees that he got to her. He knows Glimmer, much as he hates to admit it, and he knows that bitch is a sensitive comment to her, for whatever reason.

Glimmer stares at him for a few moments before dropping her head in what appears to be defeat. Strange racking sounds come from her direction and at first Cato thinks she's crying. He narrows his eyes, his eyebrows mashing together in the middle of his forehead pointedly. Glimmer doesn't cry, as far as Cato knows. It's all explained when she begins shaking her head, her face raising to look him in the eye. He understands now that she's laughing at him. Confusion washes through him but he refuses to show it. He grits his teeth together and keeps his expression teasing and light, almost like they're friends.

"Oh Cato, baby." She sighs, a soft giggle fluttering from her lips. "This could have been prevented, you know? It could have been pretty easy." Cato frowns. He's about to open his mouth and ask her what she means when he notices her hands aren't free. His sword, the first thing he ran into the Cornucopia for, the sword that he left at the tracker jacker nest, is held nimbly in her fingers as if it's light as a pen. She grins wickedly once, her eyes flashing with mania before she rolls her shoulders back. She lifts the sword above her head, positioning as if it is a spear.

Her eyes lock with Cato's but he knows that she isn't aiming for him.

The sword is flying through the air before he gets a chance to consider his next move. He just jumps, leaping for Peeta but he's too slow. Peeta's reaction time is even slower thanks to his lack of professional training. He has only enough time to turn and face Cato, their eyes locking just once, before the sword shoots through his abdomen. His expression widens in shock and that is his only reaction, though Cato knows he must be in a world of pain. Cato is still leaping through the air as Peeta breaks their eye contact, his eyes falling down to look at the sword sticking out of his stomach. His eyes stay wide with surprise, his breathing slowing with every millisecond. Suddenly Cato is beside him and Peeta is falling into his arms, shock overwhelming him. He winces in Cato's arms, the pain finally getting to him. Cato tastes bile in the back of his throat and he looks to Glimmer. He can practically feel his eyes darkening as he glares at her with hate.

"Your shit is with me… ME, GLIMMER! He has _nothing _to do with this. You didn't have to fucking _do _this!" Cato screams so loud that he'd be surprised if everyone in the arena didn't hear. Glimmer's expression contorts finally losing the artfully playful façade.

"He has _everything _to do with this, Cato. Fucking _everything!_ I wouldn't even _have _shit with you if it weren't for him." She shakes her head, manic laughter erupting from her lips. Cato sees red before his eyes when he hears her laughter. Peeta's practically _dying _in his arms and the bitch is _laughing_.

"This all could have been avoided, you know? This is _your fault _Cato!" She winces, turning to face away from him. Cato's heart thuds in his ears, the loudest noise in the universe. In comparison Glimmer almost seems like she's whispering. The blood in Cato's veins tingles and boils like a living thing inside him.

Glimmer slaps back around, her face smeared with poorly hidden tears that she obviously doesn't care for. "I get it, okay. I get that you love him. Enough to leave us for him, anyway. Enough to betray your best chance at survival. I have someone like that at home. He doesn't know, of course, but that's for a reason." Her shoulders rack faintly as a sob rips from her unwilling throat. "I know what it's like to love somebody so much that you'd do anything for them! So much that your life doesn't even matter anymore!" Her fingers rip back through her hair, tearing full locks from it. The strings entwine with her fingers and she barks out a laugh, letting them fall to the forest floor absently.

"I know how that feels but you don't. Not really. That's why I hate you so much, by the way. You make out like you're doing this for him, that you're giving up your life for him but you're _not_. His best chance at survival would have been if you sent him away. His best chance would have been if you stayed with us and just _pretended._ If you hadn't been such a fucking impulsive idiot then maybe you could have saved his life. _Maybe _we wouldn't in this position and your boyfriend wouldn't have a sword sticking out of his gut.

"This all could have been prevented if you just pretended to love me, the same way I was prepared to pretend for you. If you had stuck with us as our leader we could have been manipulated, you could have saved him. You'd be dead by the end of the Games but Peeta could have been survived." She grins wickedly, her hope clear as the sky in her eyes. "But now I'm going to kill you both. Now I'm going to be going home to _my _loved one."

True happiness spreads on her face but Cato can't help the disgust he feels. "I'm going to be a champion, Cato. They're going to _scream my name._ There won't be a child in Panem who won't know who doesn't know who I am." She sobs with happiness. "I'm going to have it all."

By this point Cato's focus is completely on Peeta. The stab is serious; maybe even enough to kill him. Cato's eyes fall on his own fist. The dagger is still gripped between his fingers, so tightly that his knuckles have turned white. Cato pulls on his fingers experimentally, satisfied that they can move. He looks back to Peeta, who gazes back at him with confusion in his eyes. Cato's eyebrows mash together determinedly and he stands, turning his body to face Glimmer. Peeta stands with him, his hands shaky as he clasps his shoulder. Cato feels him wincing beside him.

Glimmer giggles childishly at their appearance. "Cato, do you _really _think that you can fight against me? Your boyfriend's about to break and you might not see it now but you are _seriously _underarmed. If you try to kill me right now I _will _win, and I won't let you die quickly."

Cato chuckles, still as cold as he was the first day he stepped into the arena. He thinks over the past week and considers her previous words. Maybe staying with them would have been the best thing, not only or him but for Peeta as well. Maybe he could have avoided all of the pain and the trauma of the past week if he had just allowed himself to be his same cold-hearted, clean cut, calculating Cato. Maybe if he had really thought about his and Peeta's situation then he would have done things differently.

Then he thinks over the time that he and Peeta have spent together. Every second of it, even while either of them were dying, was worth it. It was worth it knowing that if they ever got out they'd be on the run; that the Capitol would be after them. It didn't matter and it still doesn't. If they die now it will all be worth it; if they get out and are on the run it will be worth it. Cato wouldn't change a single thing because he wouldn't be able to guarantee what would happen if they did.

"There's no need." Cato replies, his voice soft. "Something's about to happen and I'm not sure what it's going to do, but I can promise you there's no reason for us to fight."

Glimmer arches her eyebrow in intrigue and confusion. Cato simply grins in response.

His eyes find his target and with one last moment of waiting her throws in the direction of Glimmer.

A sharp scream screeches from her throat and she swings her arms over her head, falling to her knees in an attempt to duck. Cato almost chuckles, knowing that she isn't his target. But he's too busy pulling Peeta to the side, getting out of the way for the chaos that's sure to follow. Cato and Peeta fall to the ground, Cato shielding Peeta with his arms.

And then the world explodes.

Cato's dagger spears into the projector behind Glimmer, digging deep into the platinum contraption. The force field over the arena flickers twice, turning on and off momentarily before disappearing. Then the projector explodes, the world filling with the heat from the fire. Cato can't help but squint his eyes, shielding them from the flames. An object flies through the air, startling Cato. It's his dagger. He keeps his eyes open for just long enough to see it shoot into Glimmer's chest. She falls straight to the ground, flames eating away at her instantly.

Cato and Peeta stay huddled on the ground for a few minutes, waiting for the explosion to settle. Cato looks up, satisfied when he sees that the fire has remained consistent. Heat still bites into his skin, drawing moisture and making him feel faint. He stands up, helping Peeta as he does.

"Come on." He cries, tugging Peeta. "We have to go. The force field's gone. We can get _out_, Peeta." Peeta winces, looking Cato in the eye.

"Go, Cato. I _can't_, not with this thing inside me. I'll slow you down." He exhales jaggedly. "_Go_. Without me. Please, Cato."

Cato growls subconsciously. "Are you fucking _serious _right now Peeta? After all we've gone through this week so we can get out together, _alive, _you really think I'm going to let you just throw it all away." He shakes his head. "No, I'm getting out of here and you're coming with me. _I'm not fucking leaving you_."

Peeta hesitates, his eyes widening as he listens to the words. Cato sees as the realisation hits him, the knowledge that either they both go or no one goes. Peeta exhales, chuckling hysterically.

"You're crazy, you know that?" Cato simply grins in response, one arm looping around Peeta's waist, the other clasping his hand tightly.

"You love it." He breathes, squeezing his hand tightly. Peeta smiles softly as he nods.

"I know. Now let's get out of here. It won't be long before _they _realise what's going on. They'll send someone and his will all be for nothing."

They stare in each other's eyes once more, determination settling between them. They're going to do this, they're actually going to escape. Sure they can't guarantee what will happen, they can't even guarantee their own survival. But they can guarantee that whatever happens, they'll do it together. United they turn to leave the arena, despite knowing that if they're ever caught it might as well be a death sentence.

This may be the end of the Games but it's about to be the start of a whole new one.

It's time for the Chase to begin.

-x-x-x-x-

**AN: I can't believe that this is the last chapter and that it's so short. I'm so sorry about that, but this really is all I could think of to put in.**

**I can't believe this is really over. Sure it's more of a prologue to **_**The Chase **_**than a real story but I'm so proud just to have actually **_**finished**_**.**

**If you have stayed with the boys this long, I applaud you. You guys are my muse, the whole reason I write. I have no idea why you would want to stay this long, considering how crappy I am at writing. If you have stayed around this long I hope that you will choose to continue the story by reading **_**The Chase**_**. I can't promise when it will be up. I want a chance to really get it organised and at least drafted before I start posting. Plus I have another fic that I'm writing. If anyone's a fan of The Mortal Instruments I hope that you'll keep an eye open for it.**

**So I guess that this is it. I wish I could write something more but honestly this isn't a goodbye, just a… see you later.**

**So ciao.**


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